Galatea
by Sigridhr
Summary: When Loki goes to make good on his promise to pay Jane Foster a little visit, he doesn't gamble on Darcy's interference. Now Darcy's got the magic stick, Loki's a mindslave, and Thor isn't really sure he's comfortable with this.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Galatea  
**Rating**: R  
**Pairing:** Darcy/Loki  
**Warnings**: Non-Con, Brainwashing  
**Summary:** When Loki goes to make good on his promise to pay Jane Foster a little visit, he doesn't gamble on Darcy's interference. Now Darcy's got the magic stick, Loki's a mindslave, and Thor isn't really sure he's comfortable with this.  
**Notes:** Somebody needs to take my word processor away from me. This is a WIP, sorry. I don't even have an excuse anymore. I promise no regular updates, and, because it's me, probably lots and lots of melodrama. And sex scenes. Sex scenes are likely. (WTF why am I writing non-con for this pairing again? Somebody stop me.)  
AU for the Avengers. Some quotes in this chapter are pulled from the film (although used sparingly).

Also, for anyone reading Kindling (all four of you! haha), apologies for the delay. Part two is in progress still, and should hopefully be up reasonably soon.

* * *

**Prologue**

_interea niveum mira feliciter arte  
sculpsit ebur formamque dedit, qua femina nasci  
nulla potest, operisque sui concepit amorem._

_with consummate skill, he carved  
a statue out of snow-white ivory,  
and gave to it exquisite beauty, which  
no woman of the world has ever equalled:  
she was so beautiful, he fell in love  
with his creation._

– Ovid, _Metamorphoses_ X:247-9.

These mortals clearly had no conception of what they were dealing with. An impressive cage, he'd called it, and it was – but there were no bars that could hold him now. No mortal prison, no mortal _threat_ that could stop this from coming to pass. He sat on the bench, and looked pointedly into the camera and smiled. He hoped the beast was watching.

Everything was going according to plan.

He closed his eyes and allowed his consciousness to slip outside of his body, forming a multiple. His copy paused for a moment to take in the sight of himself, locked in SHIELD's prison. He wouldn't be there for long.

Moving silent as a ghost he slipped through the hallways, invisible to any who passed. He moved quickly through the heart of the ship, and crept onto the command deck. It was nice of them to make the monitors so user-friendly. A single glance told him everything he needed to know about their position and heading.

He spotted Thor first; he stood out like a sore thumb even amongst his precious mortals. Loki ignored him, searching instead for the location of the sceptre on the carrier, and the beast. He could afford no delays. He was about to leave when he caught the tail end of what was being said.

"...we moved Jane Foster. We've got an excellent observatory in Traunsee. She was asked to consult there very suddenly. Handsome fee, private plane, very remote. She'll be safe there."

Loki paused, looking speculative.

Thor looked grave. "Thank you. It's no accident, Loki taking Erik Selvig."

At that Loki grinned, almost ferally. He was not the sort to look a gift horse in the mouth. Everything was going according to schedule. There was no reason he couldn't make a quick stop in this 'Traunsee' after he'd unleashed the beast upon his brother. If Thor was foolish enough to leave her unprotected, Loki would teach him a lesson he would not soon forget.

It was time to pay Jane Foster a visit. But first, he would unleash the beast. He had no intention of leaving this Helicarrier intact.

...

Darcy couldn't decide whether this was the single best or the single worst internship in the history of the universe. On the upside, most internships didn't typically involve meeting many Norse gods. On the downside, most internships also didn't involve near-death experiences, giant metal robot monsters, being sent on sudden and mysterious transfers to Middle-of-Fucking-Nowhere Austria, and _data entry_.

Okay, probably quite a few internships did actually involve data entry. But not data that was considered sensitive information by a weird and nebulous section of the American Government, and had led to the confiscation and subsequent _lack of return_ of one iPod, property of Darcy Lewis, data entry intern extraordinaire.

So, there was that. Not that she was bitter or anything.

But _god_ it was boring. Beautiful, but so, so boring.

Jane, of course, was having a field day. The lab was state-of-the-art, and as Darcy watched Jane scuttle around, trying to work her own home-brewed equipment in with the facility's multi-million dollar technology, she got the impression that Jane wasn't used to being taken seriously. Everything she said to the Austrian scientists was tinged with an air of defensiveness and slight disbelief, like she was expecting ridicule. Darcy almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

She probably would've felt more sorry for her if Jane hadn't swept in here and started running the place like she owned it. And if Jane wasn't the reason she was in _Austria_ at all. She didn't know enough German to meet any of the cute guys, It wasn't winter, so skiing was off the table, and small-town Austria was not exactly brimming with fun things to do. At least, not after she'd hit all the museums. Jane had been a little bit_too_ focused for her own good, anyway. Thor's existence had clearly bolstered her spirits, and Darcy couldn't blame her for that. Being proved right was always nice.

But Darcy blamed her for working twelve hour days, _every_ day. Darcy blamed her _hard_.

"Can you pass me that binder? The blue one, with all the atmospheric data?" Jane asked, not even looking up from her notes as she held a hand out, palm up, expectantly.

"You've just described literally every binder in this pile," Darcy said flatly.

"The one with data from September '10 to June '11."

After some digging around, squinting and swearing at Jane's handwriting, Darcy tossed her what she assumed was the correct binder. It definitely said "September" on it, at least.

"I'm almost finished transcribing the data from last week," she said. "Should I run the tests on it and graph it?"

"Mmm," said Jane, distractedly. "Can you make a scatter plot of all the data from last month for me?"

"Does Excel do scatter plots?"

Jane passed her a pencil, ruler and a sheet of graph paper with a pointed look.

"You are _kidding_."

"Builds character," Jane said, grinning. "Just make sure it's neat. And make a photocopy when you're done."

"Hello, Kettle? Yes, this is the Pot. You're looking very _tanned_ today."

Jane rolled her eyes, still grinning. "Hilarious," she said.

"Oh, I try!" Darcy replied. "D'you need a refill?" She gestured towards Jane's coffee cup.

Jane peered into it, and wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, I think this has gone cold."

"You know," said Darcy, picking up Jane's cup and her own. "One day you're going to actually finish a cup of coffee without forgetting about it. And then the universe is going to implode in astonishment."

"Just as long as it implodes _after_ I finish my research. And you finish that scatterplot."

"Ha!" said Darcy, strolling out of the lab and into the small staff kitchen. She rinsed out the coffee machine, throwing out the old filter full of used grounds, and filled it with water. She was just rinsing out the mugs when she heard the unmistakable sound of glass breaking from inside the lab.

"Jane?" she called out. "You OK?"

There was no reply. She heard a loud thump, like something falling to the floor, _hard_. "Jane?" she called out again, slightly more frantic this time.

Then she heard someone speak, too low to make out the words. But one thing was clear enough: it was definitely _not_ Jane.

She had the overwhelming feeling that something was definitely _not right_. Feeling a bit silly, but too unnerved to skip it altogether, she pulled her taser from her handbag, and carefully crept towards the lab.

Her heart pounding in her chest, she crept along the wall and peered inside. Jane was standing, her back against the far wall, looking strangely vacant. There was a man standing in front of her, and Darcy's brain screamed _Asgardian_ from the look of his clothing (he was wearing a _cape_for chrissakes), speaking in a low, dangerous voice, and holding a long, golden sceptre up to Jane's chest.

"I can think of nothing more fitting," he said softly, but with a definite undercurrent of malice, "than to have Thor brought low by his own pet mortal. Oh, yes, I shall have use for _you_. Will he weep, I wonder? He had not tears for me, but for you, perhaps..."

She shrunk back against the wall, her hands shaking almost violently in fear as she clutched the taser and tried to force her panicked brain to_think_. Jane seemed to catch her movement, and their eyes locked across the room. Then, to Darcy's complete and utter horror, Jane frowned and said, "there's someone here."

"Is there now?" said the man, turning slowly and zeroing in on her almost instantly. "And what have we here?"

"She's my assistant," said Jane. "She was in the kitchen."

"Pity," said Loki, looking at her with undisguised malevolence. "But I have no use for you."

He walked towards her, with an almost feline grace, and she had no doubt that he was just as dangerous as a large cat. The corner of his lips turned up in a grin, and he raised the sceptre slowly, pointing it straight at her chest.

In blind panic, before she could actually think it through, Darcy aimed the taser and fired. The probes latched on to the front of his armour, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but it was cut off as the electricity racked his body. He made a small noise of pain, and he shuddered violently, then slumped forward to lie still on the ground. Moving on autopilot, Darcy darted forward and grabbed the sceptre from his hand, before kicking him in the head for good measure, and then scuttling backwards in terror until her back hit the doorway.

Jane was staring at her blankly, and now that she was closer, Darcy could see that her eyes were clouded over, and were the same colour blue as the gem in the scepter she was holding.

_Shit_, Darcy thought incoherently.

"We need to get out of here," Darcy said. "Go get help."

Immediately and expressionlessly, like she was following orders, Jane turned and strolled out of the lab. Darcy felt a strange sensation wash over her, a sudden rush of almost giddy power. It felt like _control_. The sceptre tingled in her hand.

Loki was twitching on the floor, and he let out a low groan as he began to regain consciousness. He rolled over, bringing his legs up underneath him shakily, moving to stand up. She took a terrified step backwards, her legs locking almost of their own accord, too frightened, and made far too stupid by fear to run away.

He looked at her with an expression of pure, unbridled malice. "Petty tricks will not save you, mortal," he hissed. "And I will make you _regret_attacking me. I will tear you limb from limb, ripping your mind apart from the inside out until this room echoes with your screams. _That_ is the penalty for what you have done."

He stepped forwards, reaching towards her. Without thinking, she held out with the point of the sceptre and placed it on his chest.

It hummed, and she felt the power thrum through her body, funneled from the sceptre into her and then back again. He was fighting her, his mind tearing at the edges of her own, though he sat absolutely still. She could feel his rage, his complete and utter _fury_, and something, some intangible, incorporeal voice spoke wordlessly to her, _push harder, deeper_. She did – driving the sceptre into him, into his mind, with all the force of her will. He dropped to his knees in front of her, the muscles in his face twitching as he warred within himself, trying to fight her off. She could feel him clawing at her mind, even though he was utterly still, screaming internally.

She could feel it boxing him in, stuffing him back, trapping him in a corner of his own mind. For an eerie moment she felt almost as if she weren't in her own body anymore, that she'd somehow merged with him and they had become one being. She pulled back, and it receded almost instantly. She stood there, staring wide-eyed down at him, panting slightly.

The tip of the sceptre dropped to the floor between them with a soft metallic 'chink'.

Loki looked up at her, still kneeling at her feet, his eyes bright blue, awaiting instruction.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes: **Thanks to everyone who dropped a review – especially those who did so anonymously as I couldn't send a message in reply. And **foodaddict**, I hope this works as a pick-me-up! As always, feedback of all kinds is greatly appreciated. :)_  
_

_si non obstet reverentia, velle moveri:  
ars adeo latet arte sua. miratur et haurit  
pectore Pygmalion simulati corporis ignes._

_all motion was restrained – and so his art  
concealed his art. Pygmalion gazed, inflamed  
with love and admiration for the form,  
in semblance of a woman, he had carved._

– Ovid, _Metamorphoses_ X:251-53.

* * *

In the span of a couple hectic minutes, Darcy Lewis, intern, Poli-Sci major, and occasional instant coffee wizard, became the single most powerful person in the world.

If you'd asked her, she'd've said it was anticlimactic.

There was a long, pregnant pause as Loki looked up at her, and she understood without quite knowing _how_ she understood it, that he was waiting. She could feel her fingers where they grasped the sceptre tingling with potential energy, prickling like she had pins and needles and almost numb, as if the skin touching the sceptre was not truly her own. A large part of her, freaking the ever-loving fuck out in the rational part of her mind, was screaming at her to drop the sceptre and just run.

But Loki was staring up at her, eyes wide and unnaturally bright, waiting.

Dropping the sceptre was impossible, she told herself. It was the only thing standing between her and him tearing her limb from limb in retribution. No, with the sceptre she was in control. With the sceptre he could be _stopped_. It was her only option.

"Jane?" she called out, not taking her eyes off Loki.

She could neither see nor hear Jane, but she knew beyond a trace of a doubt that Jane was in the larger lab, speaking to the Austrian physicists. She could hear Jane, though the rational part of her knew that there was no way the sound was actually travelling from the other end of the building. She felt more than saw Jane prick up, and turn towards her, before mechanically heading out of the lab and back to meet Darcy. Jane entered, not even looking at Loki, and simply stood to the left of the door with that same blank look of expectation on her face, waiting.

The Austrian physicists burst in after her, and then stopped in the doorway, piling into each other, staring at Loki.

"_Schiet_," the first one, Lukas, said under his breath. "What the hell is going on?"

"Uh," Darcy said, unintelligently. "This is, uh, our crazy cosplaying friend. He dropped in to surprise us." She smiled a little too widely to be reassuring, and swung her arms out. "Surprise!"

Lukas looked slowly between Loki, still on his knees in his full Asgardian armour, and Darcy, holding a very sharp, very glowing sceptre.

"Wasn't he on the news in Germany?" piped up Anna, a mousy brown-haired girl from behind Lukas. There was a sudden rapid smattering of German as they conversed amongst themselves, looking nervous.

"I'm sorry we freaked you out," said Darcy. "But he really is just a cosplayer." She turned to look at Loki and said pointedly, "isn't that right?"_Please don't kill them. Please don't kill them. Please don't kill_ me, she thought desperately.

There was a sudden flash of fury that struck, white-hot through her mind, and it made her almost physically recoil. She pressed back reflexively. It was gone almost as soon as it had come, and she could feel a soft vibrating hum emanating from the sceptre. Loki's mind was quiet.

He stood and smiled, holding out a hand. "Hello," he said, his body language making him appear remarkably unassuming for somebody in full armour. "I'm very sorry to have frightened you. Darcy and I have a habit of playing games with one another. It would appear this one may have gone a bit too far."

The Austrians still looked dubious, but Lukas held out a hand hesitantly and shook Loki's. "This is a closed lab, sir," he said flatly. "I don't know how you got in, but I think it would be best if you left."

"Of course," said Loki, genteely. "My most sincere apologies for any alarm that I may have caused."

"We'll just walk him out," Darcy said, nervously. "Jane?"

Jane fell in step behind Darcy almost immediately.

"Right," Darcy said nervously as they stepped out into the sunlight. "We need a plan. What do we do with him?" She gestured to Loki, and Jane stared blankly back. "Can we contact those government guys who came when Thor was here?"

"SHIELD?" Jane asked. "I don't know."

Darcy frowned, staring at Jane's pale face. "How do I turn this thing off? How do I let her go?"

"You must remove yourself from her mind," Loki said smoothly from behind her.

"How?"

"Release me," he said softly. "And I will tell you."

"No. No way, José," Darcy replied, shaking her head. "You are staying like this until I have figured out somewhere to hide where you will never find me. And since the likelihood of that at the moment seems to be about nil, you might be waiting a long time. Like until I die peacefully in bed at the age of 100 of natural causes."

Loki sneered. "Every minute you leave her like this you erode her sense of self, her capacity for self-determination. You will leave your friend a vegetable, incapable of deciding things for herself, reliant on you to guide her. She will be nothing but a mindless automaton, unless you release me."

_He's lying_, said something softly in the back of her mind. She wouldn't have believed it otherwise, if she hadn't _known_.

"Tell me how to release Jane," she said, and she heard something like the echo of her own voice in his head. _Tell me how to release Jane_. _Do as you're told._

He scowled, furiously. "It is about intent," he replied. "The sceptre is a conduit for intent. Will her to be released and she shall be."

"But I didn't intend to do this to you," Darcy said, confused.

"It is not a conduit for _your_ intent alone," Loki replied softly, and, despite the warm air outside, she shivered. She thought of empty spaces, barren worlds, and of death personified. The sceptre hummed against her skin, like it was calling out.

"And if I release you?" Darcy asked, staring at him intently.

"You will be free to go," Loki replied, evenly.

She scowled. "Liar," she said. She could read his thoughts, almost as if they were her own, and it was hard to tell where he ended and she began the longer she stared at him. She saw a crowd of kneeling strangers in a square, Loki's voice – "_I would have him kill you slowly, intimately..._" –, she saw New York in flames, and a great, vast emptiness that seemed almost more frightening than anything else, and she heard Loki screaming, echoing in her mind.

She took a shaky step back, her eyes wide as she took shuddering breaths. Loki watched her speculatively.

"Stay there, and don't try anything," she said, issuing it like a command. Along their link, such as it was, she felt a surge of begrudging obedience, with a bitter undercurrent of hate. Nevertheless, she was reasonably confident he wasn't about to murder her, which was, by all accounts, a Good Thing.

Gripping the sceptre so tightly her knuckles went white in one hand, she turned to Jane and looked her in the eyes. She felt a little bit ridiculous, and a lot terrified as she repeated 'I want to let Jane go, I want to let Jane go' over and over in her thoughts.

She was about to stop, feeling utterly ridiculous, when suddenly something intangible seemed to reach out from Jane's mind and latch onto her own. And suddenly she was drowning in Jane, snippets of her life, her thoughts, flicking through Darcy's mind like pages in a book – Jane's parents, Thor, her work, all part of Darcy, hers, hers to _own_. Something primal in her, egged on by the quiet vibrations of the sceptre that tingled and prickled at her skin, wanted to keep it, to _own_ it. To make Jane _hers_. To simplify her existence, to simplify the _world_ into something malleable that she could _fix_. The create a world without pain, a world where Jane's research was accepted by everyone, where there was no suffering.

She saw Jane shouting at the government for stealing her research, tears of frustration in her eyes as her life's work was stripped away from her. She saw Jane, eyes blue and mind blank standing in the corner of the lab, waiting to be told what to do. She saw equations written on napkins, of nights spent under the stars trying to reach out and touch another world.

"I want to let Jane go," she said, aloud, visibly shaking. Someone, Jane or herself, she couldn't tell anymore, was screaming. And then, abruptly, like someone cutting a chord, it stopped, and Jane fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.

Loki was watching her speculatively, his eyes flicking between her face and the sceptre in her hands. "Well done," he said. "I was not certain you'd be capable."

"I'm capable of a lot more than you seem to think," Darcy said, bending down to check on Jane.

"So it would seem," he said.

Jane was stirring, shaking her head as she rose somewhat haphazardly. Darcy placed a hand on her upper arm, hoping to steady her, but Jane jerked back in surprise, scuttling away in something that looked disturbingly like terror. Darcy took a nervous step back, hands up.

"It's OK," she said, softly. "You're OK."

Jane rose to her feet shakily, her gaze darting between Loki and Darcy.

"We need to get out of here," Darcy said. She turned to Jane, "I'm not sure, but as far as I can tell something big is coming, and he was meant to be leading them."

Jane just kept staring, her hands clenched tightly at her sides.

"Like giant alien invasion big," Darcy said. "We've got to warn someone."

"Who?" Jane asked, her voice rough.

Darcy frowned, and turned back to Loki. "How did you know we were here? Why did you come?"

"Thor was discussing you. I wanted to see for myself what sort of mortal had caught his fancy so."

"Thor?" Jane cut in sharply. "Thor is here?"

Loki grinned, wide and shark-like. "Oh, yes," he said, softly. "He has been here for some time."

"He's lying. Thor is here, but he hasn't been here long," Darcy replied shortly, and Loki scowled at her. "Where did you see Thor?"

"The Helicarrier," Loki said shortly.

"And that is...?"

"A rallying base for Earth's so-called 'defence force'. It is not nearly as formidable as the name implies, and given the name implies very little..."

"Hilarious," Darcy said, rolling her eyes. "How do we get in touch with them?"

"I doubt very much that you will need to," he replied blandly. "You were sent here on their orders, I have no doubt that you are being monitored."

Jane let out a sharp hiss of breath at that. "And Thor knew I was here?"

Loki looked almost gleeful, as he opened his mouth to speak. Darcy cut him off. "Stop it," she said. "Stop goading her."

His mouth snapped shut.

"You are going to cooperate," she said to Loki. "You don't have a choice."

He looked at her evenly, his face expressionless. "What do you wish of me?" he asked.

"Where is Thor? And what do you know about these government guys who are watching us? What do they want with us?"

"They moved both you and Dr Foster when I captured Dr Erik Selvig and the Tesseract," he said smoothly. "Thor arrived shortly after."

"Erik?" Jane asked, concerned. "What have you done to him?"

"Nothing worse than what I have done to you," he replied. "Dr Selvig is under Ms Lewis' command, now."

Darcy felt suddenly nauseous.

Jane turned to look at Darcy. "Do you know where he is?"

She let her mind drift, picturing Erik in her mind's eye. She latched on to him almost immediately, entering his mind effortlessly. Underneath the veneer of calm obedience left by the sceptre, he was terrified. She could feel it crawling under her skin. Terrified and furious. She wondered for a moment if she was actually going to throw up.

"He's travelling to New York, with the Tesseract," Darcy said.

"Tesseract?" Jane asked. "What's the Tesseract?"

Darcy looked pointedly at Loki. "An artefact of remarkable power," he said. "The jewel in Odin's treasure chest."

"And it's here?" Jane asked.

"Oh, yes," Loki replied. "Though not for long."

New York was burning. She was on a cold, barren, impossible planet that hung over a gaping emptiness. The sceptre was placed in her hand by a man she knew to be a monster, a hollow, empty, greedy being. An army awaited her command, calling out to her to lead them, to kill, to_burn_.

"An army is coming," she said, shaking. "An army is coming through a portal. He's going to open it with the Tesseract."

"How?" Jane asked sharply. "You've got him here."

"We have to stop Erik and the others with him." Darcy focused on trying to free Erik, clenching her eyes shut tightly. It was like she couldn't reach – like her fingertips could only brush his mind, not grab hold. "I can't do it," she said, softly. "I must need to be closer to them."

"But you know where they are?" Jane asked.

Darcy nodded. She closed her eyes again, focusing, using Erik's eyes to look around the group. She honed in on the driver of the van. "They're going to Stark Tower," she said. _Stop_ she thought at the driver. _Park the car at the entrance and wait for me there._

She felt a wave of obedience in response. A wordless acknowledgement that seemed to say _yes, master_. She shivered, not entirely with fear.

"Well," Jane said, "let's hope the government gets here quickly."

Loki stood, still and silent behind them, the gold on his armour glinting in the sun.

…

The government arrived an hour later by jet. Almost as soon as the jet touched down, there was an entire mobilised and heavily armed SWAT team, including a man with an honest-to-god bow and arrow, _Iron Man_ and another man in an American flag suit that Darcy could've sworn was playing dress up as Captain America, of all people, all pointing their weapons at Darcy, Loki and Jane. Darcy and Jane threw their hands up in the air shouting various expressions of the sentiment "for the love of god please don't shoot me", while Loki stood there looking a bit bored.

"Well," said Tony Stark, "I'll confess, this is not what I expected."

"Drop the sceptre," Steve said, stepping forward. "Just put it down on the ground."

"Really don't think that's a good idea," Darcy said. "The sceptre is the only thing standing between me talking to you, and me being turned into chopped liver at the hands of Sir Nuts-a-lot over there." She jabbed a thumb in Loki's direction. "I may have accidentally mind-controlled him."

"_What_?" asked Clint, keeping his bow trained on Loki.

"It's true," Jane said. "He tried to control me with it, but Darcy managed to get it off him and use it against him. He was hell-bent on killing us when he got here. It's the only thing that's stopped him."

"How do you know how to work it?" Clint asked Darcy.

"I don't," she said. "But apparently it's pretty much point and click. With a bit of mind fuck in the middle."

Several sets of eyebrows shot up at that.

"Look," Darcy said. "There's a group of Loki's ex-henchmen, including our friend, Dr Selvig, at Stark Tower. They're waiting for more orders, I can't set them free from here, but they've got the Tesseract and are planning to open a portal."

"Stark Tower," Tony said flatly. "Of all the damn buildings in New York, you pick mine?"

"It does rather stand out," Steve said.

"Because it's classy!"

"We don't have time for this," Clint cut in. "We should take them all into custody."

"Even the girls?" Steve asked. "They're on our side."

"So they say," Natasha said, evenly. "It could be a trick. If they're under Loki's control, he could easily manipulate them into convincing us of the reverse."

"To what end?" Steve asked.

Natasha shrugged at that. "Why come here at all?"

"Vengeance against Thor?" Clint said. "Dr Foster here is Thor's sort of special friend."

Jane blushed, and Darcy could sense anger simmering under the surface in Loki's mind. She stamped down on it hard, giving him the equivalent of a mental kick under the table. _Behave_ she thought.

"Either way we can't leave them here," Tony said. "Bring 'em in. Besides, any lady that can render Loki impotent is a friend of mine."

Darcy felt a white-hot flash of rage from Loki, and she grinned.

"Where are you taking us?" Jane asked.

"Into SHIELD custody," Natasha said. "We will need to question you, and if the outcome is successful you will be free to go."

"SHIELD, the same people who took your research before? That guy... Coulson, was it?"

There was a sharp inhale from Steve at the mention of Coulson's name, and, unbidden, the image of Loki's hands, _her hands_ stabbing Coulson in the back, flickered in her mind. She felt his blood on her fingers, his false bravado "I don't even know what this thing does" – she heard the wet, slick sound of the blade, the surprised gasp he let out, Thor's anguished cry...

"Fuck," she muttered. "He stabbed him, _god_."

Everyone was staring at her, and Natasha looked speculative.

"You know," Tony said. "Either she's one hell of an actress, or I think this might be genuine."

"In the jet," Steve said. "We'll figure out what to do with Loki later."

"I'm sorry," Darcy said, as Steve reached out and gently placed a guiding arm on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

She could feel Natasha's gaze on her, even after she'd turned her back and crouched down in the seat in the corner, clutching the sceptre to her chest, both afraid of it and too afraid to let go. She stared at the wall, trying to block out the sounds of the others settling themselves in around her.

Jane looked for a moment at the seat beside her, before turning and seating herself on the far side of the jet.

Natasha was still staring.

And in her mind, like a relentless tattoo, she stabbed Coulson over and over, and New York was burning, and the staff seemed purr with something like pleasure in her hands.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes: **A huge thank you to everyone who has been reading, reviewing and favouriting. Every review makes me smile. :) On the off chance anyone is interested in Ovid or the inspiration for this fic, I'm a huge nerd and will be posting some thoughts on the story of Pygmalion and Galatea from the Metamorphoses at my LJ probably tonight or tomorrow. I'll put a link up in my profile when it's done. It's not explicitly Galatea-related, but I find literary analysis interesting, so if any of you do too I'd welcome your thoughts on it. Anon commenting is on, so you don't have to be a member of the site to poke copious holes in my arguments! :D (And, now, after that shameless bit of pluggery! The fic...)

* * *

_miratur et haurit  
pectore Pygmalion simulati corporis ignes.  
saepe manus operi temptantes admovet, an sit  
corpus an illud ebur, nec adhuc ebur esse fatetur._

He lifts up both his hands to feel the work,  
and wonders if it can be ivory,  
because it seems to him more truly flesh. –  
his mind refusing to conceive of it  
as ivory, he kisses it and feels  
his kisses are returned.

– Ovid, _Metamorphoses_ X: 252-55.

SHIELD was a circus of terrifying efficiency. The plane had scarcely touched ground before Darcy was whisked away into the new temporary headquarters set up in Stark Tower, which were remarkably well stocked with everything from weapons to post-it notes given the relative recency of their establishment. She barely had time to breathe, let alone think, before she was frog-marched to a small room and shut in, the lock clicking ominously closed behind her.

She wasn't sure where Jane and Loki had been taken.

She poked around the room, testing the door handle just for the sake of thoroughness. There was a single table, with two chairs on either side, and the windows were tinted so she couldn't see out. She poked around at the window and table for a bit, before giving up and taking a seat.

So, room tested, and nothing else to do, she did the only logical thing: pulled out her phone and played Angry Birds.

She'd made it through four rounds, and was stuck with the annoying little yellow ones that just _wouldn't_ cooperate when Fury walked through the door, followed by Natasha. She put away the phone, and didn't fail to notice that they were both armed, and that Natasha's hand was resting lightly on her side arm.

"Miss Lewis," Fury said. "My name is Director Fury. I'm with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."

"Does that actually fit on business cards?" Darcy asked. "Or do you have to put it in like 4-point font?"

He glared at her – surprisingly effectively for someone with only one eye to do so. Darcy swallowed and smiled nervously. "Sorry, sir."

"We usually just use the acronym," Fury said dryly. "I am here to debrief you, and evaluate the potential level of threat you may pose to this base."

"I'm very non-threatening," Darcy said, earnestly. "I cry at Disney films and everything."

Fury looked very pointedly at the sceptre Darcy had tucked on her lap.

"As I said before," Darcy said. "I never meant for any of this to happen. I just saw the thing and grabbed it."

"Why don't you take us through it from the top?" Fury suggested. "Concisely, if you please."

"Right," Darcy said, looking down as she gathered her thoughts. "Jane and I were working in the lab. I went to the kitchen to get more coffee, I heard a noise like something breaking. When I went to investigate, Loki was there. He'd used the sceptre on Jane. When he came towards me, I tasered him and grabbed the sceptre off him." She gave a half-shrug, pulling nervously at the sleeve of her sweater. "To be honest, I was planning to run away and hope for the best at that point, but he got up almost immediately so I guess I just reacted. I put the sceptre to his chest, and..."

After a long pause, Fury filled in the blank. "And you were able to control him."

"He said it was about will and intent, that the sceptre focuses intent and enforces my will over his," Darcy said. "I can see inside his mind, after a fashion. It's... he's _crazy_, and _angry_..."

"And you believe he has no sway over you?" Natasha cut in, sharply.

Darcy's fingers made an almost unconscious stroking motion on the sceptre's handle, splaying out and then retracting rhythmically, like a cat stretching its paws. "No," she said, softly. "I don't think so, at least. He seems to respond to my commands – after all, he didn't kill us, and he answered my questions. I can tell when he's lying."

"That could be useful," Fury said, raising an eyebrow. "Can you distinguish between falsehoods alone, or lies of omission too?"

"I'm not sure," Darcy replied. "I can tell when he's outright lying, definitely, and I catch glimpses of his thoughts, I think?"

"And what have you seen?" Fury leaned forward attentively, resting his forearms on the tabletop.

"Madness," Darcy said. "He's furious, and afraid."

"Afraid of what?" Natasha asked, sharply. "SHIELD?"

"No," said Darcy. "No, I think he finds you a bit laughable, to be honest." She winced slightly. "But, I mean, he's in your custody now, so, that'll teach him." She gave a wide, nervous grin that neither Fury nor Natasha returned.

"No, there's something bigger, something coming," Darcy continued, anxiously after a moment had passed. "I'm not sure exactly what, but Loki was given the sceptre by someone with an army, and that someone wants Earth. And whoever this guy is, Loki's afraid of him."

"Coming from where?" Fury asked, sharply. "And how big is this army?"

"I don't know," Darcy replied. "I can ask him. I think I can compel him to tell me everything he knows."

Fury and Natasha exchanged a serious look, and there was no doubt at all in Darcy's mind that a silent conversation was going on right in front of her. She was struck by the odd thought that it was pretty much the _only_ silent conversation of the day she hadn't been privy to.

"We'll see about that, Miss Lewis," Fury said, finally. "You'll be staying here until a decision is made."

"Any chance that decision can involve me getting dinner?" Darcy asked, hopefully.

"I think that can be arranged," Fury replied, wryly. "We will be taking the sceptre, however." He held out his hand.

Darcy's fingers clenched around it reflexively. "Is that really necessary?" she asked, sharply. "I have no idea whether I'll still be in control of Loki if I let it go."

"That is a chance we are prepared to take, Miss Lewis," Fury said evenly, but there was an undercurrent of threat in his tone. It was abundantly clear he expected obedience, and was reaching the end of his tolerance.

"And if he comes after me? He'll kill me if he's set free."

"SHIELD is prepared to offer you protection. The sceptre. Now."

"I can't," she said, almost pleadingly, clutching it to her chest. "Erik and the others are still under its control, I should free them. And Loki... The sceptre is dangerous. It needs someone to wield it."

"This is neither a democracy nor a discussion," Fury said, his tone clipped. "SHIELD is confiscating the sceptre as a potential deadly weapon. I am asking one last time: hand it over, or we take it by force." He glanced over his shoulder at Natasha. "Agent Romanov," he said.

Natasha pulled her gun and pointed it at Darcy without a hint of hesitation, and the sound of the safety disengaging clicked loudly in the room. Her hands shaking, as goosebumps erupted across her suddenly clammy skin, Darcy held out the sceptre and placed it carefully on the table in front of her. Her fingers felt magnetised as she let go, like they were being pulled back towards it, and every hair on her body seemed to stand on end. She felt a strange tugging sensation in her chest, pulled tighter and tighter until she couldn't _breathe_, like she was_stretched_.

Fury picked up the sceptre with the hard sound of metal scraping across the plastic tabletop.

Something snapped, like a rubber band pulled tight and released, in her, and she clenched her shaking hands into fists and tucked them under her thighs, breathing heavily. Natasha and Fury were watching her carefully.

Fury passed the sceptre over to Natasha, who handled it with gloved hands. "Treat it as a level one potential hazard. Minimum physical contact," he said.

Natasha nodded, casting one last look over to Darcy. She seemed to be scrutinizing her, and waiting – although Darcy wasn't quite sure what for. She gave a smile, albeit a bit shakily. Natasha frowned, and nodded once before turning on her heel and leaving, shutting the door with a loud click behind her.

Alone again, Darcy brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them as tightly as she could.

…

"Well, you have to admit, it's a bit hilarious," Clint said, propping his feet up on the conference table. "What goes around comes around and all that."

"I fail to see how any of this could possibly be considered 'hilarious'," Steve said, primly. "She's barely more than a girl."

"But she _is_ useful," Fury said, flatly. "If she can do everything she says she can. Her story checks out with Dr Foster's and the security footage from the lab. I'm inclined to think it's genuine."

"Well, problem solved then. We'll just have her keep Loki on his leash like a good little boy, and you can all get the hell out of my tower," said Tony.

"Problem is very much _not_ solved," Fury cut in. "According to Miss Lewis, Loki was planning on bringing an army, and it's still out there. And apparently whoever is leading that army is a real piece of work."

"What army? From where?" Steve asked.

"Not Earth," Fury said, wryly.

"So we are seriously having an honest-to-god discussion about a probable _alien invasion_?" Tony asked, incredulously.

"We are having a meeting to discuss tactics to _prevent_ an alien invasion. Preferably quickly, and thoroughly." Fury sat back in his chair. "Miss Lewis believes she can influence Loki enough to interrogate him. She claims to be able to tell if he's lying. With enough information, we should be able to mount a planetary defence."

"Are we certain Miss Lewis can be trusted?" Natasha asked, leaning forward on her crossed arms.

"You don't trust her?" Clint asked, surprised.

Natasha gave a half-shrug of one shoulder. "I don't trust the sceptre, I don't care who is using it."

"You think she's not actually in control?" Tony asked.

"She's very possessive of it, and she didn't react well to it being taken away," Natasha said. "And if it is an alien device, she's wielding it with surprising competence."

"Point and click," Tony said, glibly. "As far as we could tell from the readings we got off that thing, before you distracted us with your mass-production of WMDs –" he glanced pointedly at Fury. "It's an energy amplifier more than a generator."

"Loki said it focused intent, according to Miss Lewis," Fury said.

"That could be consistent," Tony replied. "Assuming you could somehow quantify and utilise intent."

"You can," Clint said stiffly. "I wouldn't've believed it necessarily before this, but I guarantee you, you can."

Tony waved a hand in his direction. "If all it does is amplify, then pretty much anyone could use it."

"_If_ all it does is amplify," Natasha said.

"It is still the best available option," Fury said, decisively.

"Well I'm not on board with this," Steve said, flatly. "We cannot use this girl to control Loki."

"I can't believe either of you," Tony said. "We have just been handed the best break we've had since this whole thing started, and you want to throw it back?"

"If we keep Loki enslaved than we are no better than he is," Steve said, furiously. "I gave up my life trying to stop the last person who stood up and told people what to do and think, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"I hate to break it to you, boy wonder, but people do that _all the time_," Tony said snidely. "In fact, if you were really that afraid of groupthink, you probably shouldn't've joined the army."

"As a POW, Loki has rights," Steve said. "Eliminating his free will is not only utterly unethical, it's illegal."

"And necessary," said Fury. "You can take me to court if you want to, Captain. I'll be busy ensuring there is still a planet around for your to do so."

"Plus I think you'd lose that case," Tony said. "I know you've out of the game for a while, but I don't think there's anything in the law about mind-control sticks, _Captain_."

"And it's hardly worse than anything Loki has done," Clint added, furiously. "Or have you forgotten already that he kidnapped me and forced me to try and kill my own people? Kill _you_?"

"Two wrongs don't make a right, Agent Barton," Steve said.

"Oh, cut the sanctimonious crap." Tony rolled his eyes. "We can argue ethics and semantics when the world is still in one piece. Right now Loki is the best option for stopping an invasion, and when you have a best option, you fucking use it."

"Which is precisely what we are going to do," Fury said, smoothly. "Captain Rogers, if you have concerns, I suggest you file an official complaint with Agent Hill. I will personally ensure that it is processed within seven to ten business days."

Steve looked furious as Tony sniggered.

"Assuming we have seven to ten business days," Fury said. "If you'd like to see them, then I suggest you help us out."

"And Miss Lewis?" Natasha asked. "I don't think we can rule out the possibility that the sceptre has an influence on her."

"Watch her," Fury said. "At all times."

"And if something happens to her?" Steve demanded. "What then?"

"Then she is a casualty of war, Captain. I'm sure you're familiar with the concept."

…

The door swung open with a bang, causing Darcy to jump in her seat in fright.

"Apologies," Agent Hill said, with a small, grim smile. "I'm to bring you downstairs."

"For dinner?" Darcy said, hopefully.

"Not just yet," Hill replied. "Fury is expecting you to release Loki's remaining hostages."

"Oh," Darcy said, softly. "Are they alright?"

"I would expect you'd know better than I, from what I've heard," Hill said, distantly. "It's this way."

Fury himself was waiting downstairs when they arrived, holding the sceptre gingerly in gloved hands. She heard it being to hum as she stepped into the room, a soothing low vibration that seemed to settle her nerves. She stepped forwards quickly, moving ahead of Hill to stand directly in front of Fury, her hand outstretched.

He looked slowly between her and the sceptre in his hands. "Well," Darcy asked, twitching her fingers. "I believe you wanted these people released?"

His fingers seemed to tighten reflexively on the handle for a moment, and she froze, suddenly profoundly aware of him, the way he stood, how much taller he was than her. She wanted to hit him. To scratch at him, to tear the sceptre from his hands.

"One at a time," he said, cutting through the rising fog of fury in her mind. He placed the sceptre in her outstretched hand, and it dipped for a moment under the weight before her hand clenched tightly around it.

"Erik first," she said.

"Slowly," Fury warned. "We'll be watching. The slightest hint you are doing anything _other_ than letting these poor people go, you'll be back in that cell before you can say 'norse god'."

"I'm on your side, Director Fury," Darcy said. "Erik is my friend, and Jane's."

"Does he know that?" Fury asked.

She scowled, turning towards Erik. He smiled at her, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm going to let you go now, Erik," she said, clutching the sceptre tightly and repeating what she'd done with Jane, willing herself to let go. Erik, underneath the veneer of compliance put in place by the sceptre, began to awaken, and all around her the pleasant, cloying hum of the sceptre grew louder and louder, until she could hear nothing else. She watched Erik's life, crawled into every nook and cranny of his mind, shared his thoughts, _became him_ and crawled inside his skin until she couldn't tell which way was out anymore. And always in the background the endless thrum, the heartbeat of the sceptre, keeping time with her own.

And then she crawled back out again.

There were nearly twenty of them. She didn't know most of their names before she started, but she watched them grow up, saw their families, their hopes, their dreams, their failures. When she'd finished, she felt empty. Erik barely spoke to her, looking her over once before asking about Jane. Fury had him sent up to see her, and Darcy watched him go.

"Well done," Fury said.

"Was it?"

"Sometimes life is about results," Fury replied, his tone even. "People don't often admire those who do dirty work, but every hero you have ever heard of was standing on the shoulders of someone else's dirty work."

"Who's going to be standing on the shoulders of mine?" Darcy asked.

"If I get my way, not Tony goddamn Stark." He looked down at her, speculatively. "Let's get you a room and some dinner."

"And the sceptre?"

"Is going back into storage."

"Shouldn't I talk to Loki?" Her knuckles went white on the shaft of the sceptre as she held it.

"We're conducting our own investigation at the moment," Fury said. "We'll bring you in when we need you."

"But the invasion –"

"I appreciate your concern, Miss Lewis," he said in a tone that left no room for discussion, "but the decision is not yours to make." He held out a hand. "Sceptre?"

She was struck by the sudden vivid mental image of swinging her arm back, and using the blade of the sceptre to slit his throat. She blinked, and dropped the sceptre into his hands, taking a step back.

He gave her a strange look. "Everything all right, Miss Lewis?"

"Yep," she said, with forced cheer. "Just hungry."

He stared at her appraisingly, looking dubious. "Hill," he said, eventually. "I expect Miss Lewis would like some dinner now."

"Yes, sir."

...

Her new room had a bed. This was a distinct improvement, and she wasted no time stumbling across the room and face planting into it. She kicked her shoes off and rolled onto her side, wiggling the covers out from underneath her and throwing them over herself.

"I love you, bed," she said, feeling a tad loopy from exhaustion. "Although I would have preferred to meet under better circumstances."

She thumbed idly through the apps on her phone for a while, before giving up and curling up into a ball, draping one arm over her head in the hope that she might catch a bit of sleep. She was just drifting off when she felt a sharp pulling sensation. Her skin itched all over, and then suddenly there was the feeling of being torn, like two pieces of velcro pulled apart, as she was ripped from herself and flung wildly through space.

The world stopped spinning.

It was dark, and cold, wherever she was. She felt strangely weightless and empty.

There was the sound of the hard crunch of footsteps on gravel behind her, and she turned, coming face to face with something that was absolutely, completely and utterly _not_ human.

It hissed, its thin lips retracting, baring sharp teeth. "What is this?"

Darcy took a stumbling step backwards, and ran into a rock face almost immediately.

"Why have _you_ come when I called? Where is Loki?"

"He's indisposed," she said, "I can take a message." She immediately wanted to smack herself upside the head for saying something so_utterly_ ridiculous.

It laughed suddenly. "A mortal. How kind of you to come to us. You save me the trouble of killing you with the rest of your world."

"You're the leader of the army. You're going to invade Earth," Darcy said, feeling complete, paralyzing, overwhelming terror boiling up in her chest.

"We will consume your world," it hissed. "Until there is nothing left."

"We'll fight you," she said, sounding much, much braver than she felt. "We'll always fight you."

It laughed again. "I would enjoy that, I think," it said. "Come, little mortal. We shall fight."

It stepped forward, and she held her arms out defensively. To her surprise, she heard the faint sound of metal moving through the air, and a familiar hum all around her, and she was suddenly holding the sceptre in her hands, blade outwards. She looked down at it in shock, and the creature stilled, letting out a low, angry hiss.

In a single sudden move it knocked her hand aside and darted forward, its breath hot and foul against her face. It took a long, deep breath in, and she tried to squirm away along the wall. It reached out in one sharp motion, and grabbed her jaw in its hand, its fingers covering her mouth, and pinned the hand still holding the sceptre to the wall.

"You smell of power," it hissed. "You have His sceptre. So that is how you have answered my call. How have you come by this? Who are you?"

She tried to reply, but it came out in the form of an incoherent scream of terror, muffled by the creature's hand. It hissed again, it's long, wiry fingers digging hard into her face.

"Do not think that the power of the sceptre will protect you. If Loki has failed, we will find another way. We will come for you, and we will rip you limb from limb, rend you into so many pieces the crows of Midgard will have a hard time finding them all. We will _destroy_ you for taking what is His. And when we have finished, you will find that a great mercy compared to what He will do. You will know true pain, you will know true fear, and you will know death."

Her fingers clawed fruitlessly at the hand covering her face, as she kicked out with all the strength she could muster. The creature seemed not to notice.

"And remind Loki that he knows the price of his failure. Retribution will be thorough, but not swift." He released her, slamming her head against the rock hard enough that she saw stars.

She stumbled back, clinging to the wall for support, holding the sceptre shakily out in front of her. It sneered down at her in derision.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I never wanted this. I didn't take it on purpose."

"It has chosen you," the creature hissed. "You are bound. That is how you have answered the call. That is how it could come to you here. It cannot be taken. It can only be won."

It stepped towards her again, snarling. "And we will win it –"

She shrieked and lashed out, swinging the sceptre wildly up and clipping the creature's face with the blade. The world seemed to spin from the momentum, and she felt untethered, like she was slipping away.

She jolted awake, the movement sending shooting pain through her skull, and she groaned, clutching her head and curling forward. She could feel the imprint of its fingers on her face still, and smell the putrid stench of its breath, feel the warm foul air on her cheek. They were coming. They were coming for _her_. For the first time since this whole thing started, Darcy burst into tears.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes: **So, I lied when I said this was going to be six chapters. My initial outline was for six, but given I've only just now finished the material outlined for chapter _two_, somehow I think it's not going to fit.

This has become much bigger than I expected, sorry.

Also, hopefully this makes up for the lack of Loki in the last chapter. :)

* * *

_All are fitting; [but] nor does nudity appear less lovely.  
He arranges this one on a coverlet dyed with  
Sidonian conch and calls her his bed's partner and  
puts back its neck laid on soft feathers, as if it will feel._

_cuncta decent; nec nuda minus formosa videtur.  
conlocat hanc stratis concha Sidonide tinctis  
adpellatque tori sociam adclinataque colla  
mollibus in plumis, tamquam sensura, reponit._

– Ovid, _Metamorphoses_ X: 266-69.

Stark Tower was a bit like a TARDIS: the corridors just seemed to breed more corridors. She was glad, in a way, that she was being escorted everywhere by at least one armed SHIELD agent. Even if it did remind her that she was much more a prisoner than a guest, at least she wasn't a lost prisoner.

She was a bit spitefully pleased to find that Loki's room was considerably smaller than her own. There was a bench in lieu of a bed, and that seemed to be the only furnishings in the room. Loki's hands were cuffed together, and his mouth bound in a metal gag. She stopped feeling pleased about the size of the room when she saw that.

His glare was impressively menacing for someone who looked a bit like a cowed rottweiler.

"Umm," Darcy said, nervously. "How am I supposed to talk to him if...?"

Agent Hill gave her a slightly derisive look before stepping forward, gun out. She gingerly released the clasp on the gag, and pulled it away from Loki's face, keeping her weapon trained on him throughout. He smiled slowly and menacingly, licking his lips.

"SHIELD wants to know everything about this invasion force," Hill said, standing off to the side, watching Loki carefully.

"Afraid of the monsters?" Loki asked, glibly.

"Be nice," Darcy said.

A glazed expression flickered momentarily across his face, so quick Darcy barely caught it, before he smiled. "Apologies," he said.

"The army that you were going to lead," Darcy said. "Who are they?"

"They are called the Chitauri," Loki replied. "They intend to bring order to chaos."

"What do you mean?"

"Your world is dominated by chaos," Loki replied softly, spreading his hands, palms up, as far as the cuffs would allow. "Look around you – you are driving yourselves towards your own destruction, fueled by life's great lie: that you are _important_. The true reality of the universe is that you are not, and you will be at peace in your heart when you accept that."

"But _you_ are important, I suppose," Darcy said dryly.

"And you," Loki replied. "We have our parts to play, you and I."

She shivered, thinking of the words the creature had spoken to her last night: _It has chosen you. You are bound_. Agent Hill shifted her weight in the corner, watching Darcy cautiously.

"And what is your part to play?" Darcy asked.

"I am a bringer of peace," he said. "You are a race plagued by misery, a byproduct of the illusion of free will. Choices simply cause anxiety – your kind need and yearn to be told what to do. The Chitauri plan to bring order, to sterilise the pathology of selfish ambition that grips your world."

"Free will is not an illusion, it's a necessity," Darcy said. "Free will is integral to our humanity. Autonomy is a _right_."

"Why?" Loki sat back against the wall.

"Because we are individuals, and because we all _matter_," Darcy insisted. "I am not worth more than you, and I have no right to take away your freedom to serve my own purposes."

"You are _not_ worth more than me," Loki replied, sharply. She felt an odd sensation run through her, like something snapping, like a whip. He frowned, and looked down at the floor. "My apologies," he said. "That was rude."

Darcy's eyebrows shot into her hairline, and she saw Agent Hill's do the same.

"However," Loki continued, ignoring their looks of abject shock, "the mere possession of 'individuality' does not mean that one 'matters'. As a species, you all appear much the same to me – though I have no doubt the differences to you appear great, but with seven billion of you, one can not countenance the idea that each and every one of you is _important_. It is a self-serving model: you wish to revere individuality as something sacred because it is something you all believe you possess, therefore you all 'matter'. The argument for individuality is actually remarkably hive-minded."

"And who decides who matters and who doesn't?"

"You," Loki replied, flatly. "As the only mortal to have successfully dominated – wholly and completely – the mind of another, that power falls to_you_. It is your part to play."

Darcy took a step back, running into the wall behind her. "You're wrong," she said. "And you'll always be wrong – I _am_ an individual, and I_choose_ not to enslave others."

"Including me?" Loki inquired softly.

Darcy froze, her reply caught in her throat.

"I see," Loki said. "All _humans_ are autonomous individuals, then, but not I."

"It's not like that," Darcy said. "I don't have a choice."

"Ah," Loki said, leaning forwards to rest his elbows on his knees. "No _choice_. See how much _easier_ that is. How quickly you default to 'no choice' when things are difficult. When there are no choices, nothing is ever your fault."

"You are trying to destroy my planet," Darcy said, shakily. "You tried to kill me. I am _defending_ myself."

"Oh, it is considerably more than that," Loki replied. "The sceptre has _chosen_ you. It does not work if there is nothing in you to work _with_."

"What do you mean?"

"The sceptre focuses intent," Loki replied, grinning. "It does not _generate_ it."

"I don't understand," she said. She felt like a great cacophony of sound and sensation was rising up around her; Loki's voice echoing in the room and in her mind, his thoughts pressing in on her, boxing her in; the voice of the Other from the night before, _it has chosen you_, the smell of its breath against her cheek, and always, _always_ now the thrum of the sceptre in the back of her mind, steady as her own beating heart.

"Oh, but you _do_," Loki said, standing up. Hill stepped away from the wall in an instant, cocking her gun and pointing it levelly at Loki's head.

"Sit," she said. "Now."

Loki raised his hands as best he could, and sat back down, fussily re-arranging his clothing. He looked up at Darcy, all long, thin lines and aquiline features, unsmiling. His gaze seemed to bore into her, and she found feel his mind pressing against her own, like he _wanted_something from her.

"You _do_ understand," he said again. "In order to wield the sceptre – to control the minds of others – you must _want_ it."

"That's not true," Darcy replied. "I don't."

"For every action there is a price," Loki said, and the complete and utter _truthfulness_ of his words rang with in her like the toll of the death bell. "The universe does not give freely."

"'For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction'," she said half-numbly. She felt the _rightness_ of the sceptre in her hands – and already familiar and comforting weight. She thought of Jane and Erik, the way she'd stripped the bare again and remade them – of everything could have done. She thought of Loki stabbing Agent Coulson, his blood running over Loki's hands and the sensation of it so very, very real that she felt like they were her own. She thought of her flash of desire to do the same to Director Fury, and wondered just what she was becoming.

"Quaint," Loki replied. "But sufficient. How many times have you used that, now? And what have you given in return?"

The room fell into uneasy silence as Darcy tried very, very hard to let go of the sceptre. To just let it fall. It hummed in warning, slightly static in her hand – charged and angry.

Loki watched her carefully, before leaning back against the wall, looking drawn. "I see," he said, enigmatically.

She could see Agent Hill eyeing her warily out of the corner of her eye. Darcy held up a hand placatingly, and pushed herself up off the wall. She clamped down on her fear, and her unease, and stood up as straight as she could, composing herself and looking Loki straight in the eye.

"How many of these Chitauri are there? And how are they getting here?" she asked, as firmly as she could.

"They are a formidable force," Loki replied, "in the hundreds of thousands. I had intended to open a portal for them, but you seem to have put a stop to that. Well done." She couldn't tell if he was mocking her or not – his expression was carefully blank, and his mind empty of all but obedience, and the tiniest tinge of – curiosity, perhaps? She wasn't sure.

"Can they still get here without the portal?" Darcy asked.

"Oh, yes," Loki replied. "Though it will take them considerably more time to construct their own. But rest assured, they have this planet in their sights, and they will not be eager to let it go."

"Why?"

"Their leader wishes to consume your world."

"I thought you _were_ their leader," Darcy said, furrowing her brow in confusion.

"I am little more than a placeholder," Loki replied. "At least as far as the Chitauri are concerned."

"A placeholder for who?"

"He is called Thanos," Loki said. "And he courts death."

"Well, can he court it somewhere else?"

Loki gave her a flat look. "He needs the deaths that conquest of your world would bring him. He is fascinated by death. He will come for your world, and he will unmake it."

"How can we stop him?" Darcy asked.

"You can't," Loki replied. "The best you can hope is that the power the sceptre has granted you will be enough to facilitate your escape, but it is unlikely. They will come for you."

"There has to be a way," she insisted.

"If I knew one," Loki said, leaning forward again. "Do you think I would be _here_?"

That statement registered as absolutely honest. Loki honestly didn't know a way out, and for some reason Darcy found this almost more terrifying than everything else she'd learned.

"You are going to help us find one," Darcy commanded. "There has to be a way."

He nodded. "I will try."

"Thank you," Darcy said, turning to leave. She paused, her hand on the doorknob struck by a sudden thought. "Loki," she said, turning back around to face him. "What does Thanos look like?"

Loki blinked in surprise, and she was struck by the sudden image of a man, purple-skinned and thoroughly evil in her mind's eye. He wasn't the same creature that she'd seen the other night, though the location seemed to be the same, or, similar, at any right.

"What have you seen?" Loki asked, his voice deceptively gentle.

"It wasn't Thanos," she replied. "But it – whatever it was – told me to remind you of the price of failure."

Loki paled, and the strong wave of fear and anger seemed to pull her accidentally into his mind. Again she felt that same, foul breath against her skin, the cold emptiness of the void. _You think you know pain? You will long for something as sweet as pain..._

Both Loki and Agent Hill were watching her intently.

"You were wrong," Darcy said, standing as straight as she could and trying desperately to still her shaking hands. "I never wanted any of this. And I'm starting to think you didn't either."

She turned, and Agent Hill moved to replace the gag. She could feel Loki's gaze burning into her back, the full power of his mind focused on hers, like a niggling, burning itch that wouldn't go away. Even after the door was shut, and Hill was marching her back upstairs, she could still see his eyes – bright blue over the silver metal of the gag.

…

"You never reported any outside contact," Agent Hill said in a clipped, furious voice as soon as the door had shut to the interrogation room.

"I don't know what it was," Darcy said. "It only happened last night. I wasn't sure what to tell you – I honestly thought it might've been a dream, until I saw that Loki had been there too."

Hill stared down at her, still looking severely displeased. "In future, you will inform SHIELD of any and all contact with unknown entities or hostiles," she said. "_Immediately_."

"Right," Darcy said, tugging on her sleeve out of nervous habit. "Sorry."

"Director Fury will want to hear about this," Hill said, turning and starting down the hallway.

"Really?" Darcy groaned. "Do we have to?"

Hill shot her a glare over her shoulder.

"Sorry," Darcy said again. "He just freaks me out."

"He freaks everyone out," Hill replied. "You get used to it."

"Great," Darcy muttered, trudging along behind. "I can't wait."

There was some kind of fracas going on upstairs. Darcy could hear it even through the closed elevator doors. It was a Norse fracas – she recognized the booming voice of Thor almost immediately. Still, she couldn't help but be a touch surprised to find, when the elevator doors slid open with a ding, Thor holding Jane to his side in one arm and waving Mjolnir in Director Fury's face with the other.

Natasha seemed to be observing from the sidelines, leaning against the conference room table. Both Thor and Fury froze almost comically as Darcy and Agent Hill stepped into the room. Thor frowned, looking her over, lingering for a long moment on the sceptre still clutched in her hand, before slowly lowering Mjolnir to his side. Darcy didn't miss the way Jane seemed to shrink into Thor's side slightly.

"Ah, Miss Lewis," Fury said in a remarkably blasé tone for someone who had, minutes ago, been being threatened by a Norse god.

Agent Hill moved noiselessly from Darcy's side and crossed the room to speak with Natasha.

"Darcy Lewis," Thor said, nodding slightly in her direction. "It relieves me to see you again, though I regret that it is not under better circumstances."

"Hi, Thor," she said. "I'm glad to see you too."

"I understand you have been using this sceptre to control my brother," Thor said, turning to put the bulk of his body between Fury and Darcy, effectively cutting him from the conversation. Though she couldn't see him well over Thor's shoulder, she could practically feel the rage boiling off of the Director.

"It was an accident," Darcy said. "He came to attack us, and I just grabbed it."

"Peace," Thor said, surprisingly gently for someone with such a resonant voice. "I am not blind to my brother's crimes. I know that he meant to attack you, and Jane. You did very well to get the better of him – though warrior's prowess was never my brother's greatest strength, he is, nevertheless, a formidable foe, especially to one such as you."

Darcy was surprised at just how tremendously _relieved_ she felt to hear him say that. She realised that this was the first time anyone had explicitly said that all this _wasn't her fault_. She felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards Thor, for all of his loud, masculine bluster, his forthrightness and kindness was refreshing. Of course, it vanished fairly quickly when he continued to speak.

"However, you must release my brother," he said.

"I can't," she replied. "Thor, he'll _kill_ me. And we need answers. Fast. There is an army coming, and they will destroy the planet if we can't use the information Loki has to stop them."

"He is a villain, but he is still my brother," Thor replied, firmly. "Your people would not countenance keeping one of your own trapped within their own mind in this manner."

"We would if doing so was the best, and perhaps _only_, option for mounting a successful defence of this planet," Fury said angrily, stepping around Thor. "If the information Miss Lewis has uncovered is genuine – and we have good reason to believe it is – there is an invasion coming, and I am prepared to do _anything_ to protect this world."

"I have given you my aid," Thor replied, as if that was all Fury needed to protect Earth from a hundred thousand Chitauri.

"And we are grateful," Fury said, diplomatically. "But we need information."

"I will speak to Loki," Thor said, stubbornly. "If you release him, we may still be able to attain the information you seek."

"_May_," said Fury sharply. "Miss Lewis, however, has the ability to ensure we get _complete_ and _honest_ information."

Thor scowled, growing angry again, his grip on Mjolnir tightening ominously. "A victory achieved through ignoble means is no victory at all. You _will_ release my brother's mind."

"What if you talked to him?" Darcy cut in before Fury could reply. "As he is now – see how he's doing, how he's being treated... Get a sense of what it's like for him, and then decide?"

Thor seemed to process this for a moment, before nodding. "Very well," he said. He looked down at Jane. "Stay here. I do not think it would be wise to bring you before my brother."

"No," Jane said softly. "No, I don't think so."

He reached out and gently brushed the hair at her temple aside. "I will return to you shortly."

Darcy took this opportunity to quietly tug at Fury's sleeve. "You'll probably want to have the gag removed before Thor gets down there," she hissed.

Fury nodded sharply, and strolled over to Hill who discreetly send a message on her radio.

"Come," said Thor, loudly, strolling over to the elevator and standing expectantly in front of the doors. "I wish to see my brother."

Fury and Darcy followed silently, worry churning unpleasantly in Darcy's stomach.

…

"I understand you have concerns about Miss Lewis utilising the sceptre to control Loki," Hill said quietly, leaning on the table next to Natasha.

Natasha looked over speculatively. "What have you seen?"

"Loki seemed to imply that the sceptre has somehow chosen her – that it has agency, and a price."

"Everything has a price," Natasha said in a low voice. "And I think this one may be steep."

"I'm inclined to agree."

"What do you suggest?" Natasha asked. "Fury is determined – and he may be right. Miss Lewis is a reasonable sacrifice for the security of Earth."

"And if she becomes something other than a sacrifice?" Hill asked softly, crossing her arms.

"Do you think that's likely?" Natasha asked, sharply, watching Hill's expression closely.

"Loki made it clear that each time the sceptre is used it takes something. It controls intent, exerts a person's will over another – I am concerned that the price to pay might be Miss Lewis' humanity."

"We take lives every day," Natasha said. "How is that different than what we're doing here?"

"Don't play devil's advocate, Romanov," Hill snapped. "It doesn't suit you. And I know you well enough to know you are absolutely aware of the difference."

"And if we are forced to take the life of the monster we helped create?"

"Things aren't black and white, you know that," Hill replied. "You're not usually this shaken."

"Things are black and red," Natasha replied. "And I have begun to see only red."

"Well stop it," Hill snapped. "You can't afford it right now. Not with something of this scale coming. Now, do we go to Fury and ask him to choose a better operative to wield that sceptre?"

"Would it work? You mentioned the sceptre 'choosing' her. We had Banner and Stark testing that thing for hours and it seemed to have little effect."

"We need a better idea of what we're dealing with," Hill muttered. "And what to watch for if Miss Lewis does need to be neutralised."

"Who makes that call?" Natasha asked. "Fury?"

"We may need to make it ourselves. I'll speak to him again about it, but he's resistant to the idea that she might not be able to keep this up." Hill crossed her arms, frowning. "But he wasn't there in the room with her."

"So put him in the room," Natasha said with a shrug.

"You try putting Fury anywhere he doesn't want to be put," Hill replied with a snort.

"He won't go?" Natasha asked.

Hill shook her head. "I think he doesn't want to face reality. She's the best chance we've got – if she fails..."

"Reality will face him soon enough," Natasha said bitterly. "It is the one thing you can never outrun. That and death."

"And taxes?" Hill inquired sarcastically.

Natasha glared at her.

Hill shook her head with a sigh. "I don't like this at all."

"The day I have a mission I fully _like_, the world will end," Natasha replied. "What is right is never easy."

"Let's just hope we're right, then."

...

There was a tray of biscuits and tea in the room when they arrived. Darcy nearly laughed at the absurdity of it, and Loki was eyeing it warily from his bench. He stiffened the moment Thor stepped into the room, and Darcy felt the close press of his mind against her own as he fought against the invisible bonds the sceptre had placed him in.

"We're just here to talk," Darcy said. "Be _nice_."

She felt her skin prickle, and Loki seemed to sit up even straighter, glancing from her to Thor and back again.

"Brother," Thor said, his voice suddenly rough with emotion.

Loki said nothing, his mind still railing furiously – though nothing of his inner turmoil showed on his blank face. Thor glanced anxiously at him, and then at Darcy.

"Brother," he said again. "You must give up this quest. Join me in the fight to save Midgard, and we will return home, _together_, victorious."

"I have already agreed to help," Loki said, without inflection.

Darcy was starting to suspect this may have been an exceptionally bad idea, judging from the look on Thor's face.

"I will not allow the mortals to keep your mind enslaved," Thor said. "For all that you have made grievous errors and committed crimes, you are still my brother. You are entitled to justice."

"Thank you, brother," Loki replied, strangely demure.

The atmosphere in the room seemed to electrify almost instantly. Something passed over Thor's face at that, a mixture of complete, open_longing_, joy and grief, seeming to send his expression a hundred different ways at once. He all but fell to the floor on one knee in front of Loki.

"Brother," he said, in a low, broken voice. "Then you will come? You will come home?"

"If that is what you wish," Loki replied.

"Then you have seen the error of your ways?" Thor asked, and Darcy honestly thought she saw tears gathering in his eyes.

"Midgard must be protected," Loki replied. "The Chitauri are coming, and I must find a way to stop them."

Fury's eyebrows raised, and he looked speculatively between Darcy, and Thor and Loki, his arms crossed. Darcy felt a bit like she was watching a train wreck happen – she was too fascinated to look away, but at the same time it was utterly horrible, and deeply personal to watch. She felt like she was intruding on something she had no right to witness.

"Is this a trick?" Thor asked, looking between Darcy and Loki as if he couldn't quite figure out who was causing what. He frowned, looking at Loki. "Another lie, brother?"

"I cannot lie," Loki replied. "Not now."

Darcy gave an awkward half-shrug. "He's not _lying_," she said. She couldn't quite articulate how it felt, though. It wasn't fully the truth either. There was no deception – but it felt like he was speaking from behind a layer of fog. It hadn't the clarity of pure truth, or the deliberate malice of deception either. It just felt obscured, and oddly compliant.

"Then it is true?" Thor asked, in an almost whisper.

"He's agreed to help us find a way to stop the Chitauri," Darcy said. "But that's partly my doing, Thor. I don't think it's fully his own decision."

Thor's frown deepened. "But he _wishes_ to help? He is not lying when he says Midgard must be protected? That he will come home?"

"He's not lying," Darcy said. "But if I release him, I'm not certain his answers would stay the same."

"Then it is you, not him," Thor said, sadly.

"I don't know, I really don't," Dary replied. "I don't know how all of this works. But I do know that as far as I can tell it isn't _hurting_ him, and for what it _is_ worth, he is not lying to you _now_."

"His mind," Thor said, cautiously. "What is it...? How is he?"

Darcy frowned. "It's... in turmoil," she said, diplomatically. "There is a lot of anger, and a lot of pain."

"I never meant to cause you pain, brother," Thor said, turning back to Loki. "But you must see that you are causing pain to others. Their pain will not cure yours."

Darcy felt a flash of something from Loki at that, but it was gone before she could put her finger on just what the feeling was.

"Are you well, now, my brother? Are you better here?" Thor asked, earnestly.

"Yes," Loki replied. "I wish to be here."

Thor looked at Darcy, and she shook her head. "He's not lying," she said, although she felt like _she_ was for even saying it.

Thor smiled. "And so, once more, we fight on the same side," said Thor, clapping Loki on the shoulder. "And our battle will be glorious."

Loki stared at him, his expression still slightly blank and demure.

"I am relieved, my brother, to see you so. I had feared that you were much too lost for such a conversation to ever happen again between us. I see now that it was not so. Forgive me for misjudging you."

"There is nothing to forgive," Loki said without intonation.

"That is not so, brother," Thor said, gravely. "But it is kind of you to say." He stood, picking up Mjolnir from where he'd placed it on the floor. "I must return to Jane now, but I will visit again soon, brother." He looked at Fury, his expression grave. "My brother has pledged allegiance. You should release him from his irons."

And with that, he strolled out of the room. Fury followed. Darcy gave Loki a final, worried look, before pushing the tray of tea and biscuits over to where he could reach them with an apologetic smile.

"Bye," she said, awkwardly. He didn't reply, staring blankly at the far wall instead.

Fury was waiting out in the corridor when she emerged.

"That was unexpected," he said, mildly. "I had expected him to be upset."

"I think we all have something of a blind spot to the truth where family is concerned," Darcy said, softly.

"I thought Loki _was_ speaking the truth," Fury replied, sharply.

"He was," Darcy said. "But I'm not sure I know what the truth is anymore."

She tried very, very hard not to think of the way Thor had said 'brother' and thrown himself to his knees at Loki's feet. But it was like trying not to think of an elephant when someone told you not to – and every time Thor's smiling face appeared in her mind, she felt a bit more sick.

"You'd best figure it out, Miss Lewis," Fury said. "There is a war coming, and there is no room for subjective truth in war."


	5. Chapter 5

_admovet os iterum, manibus quoque pectora temptat:  
temptatum mollescit ebur positoque rigore  
subsidit digitis ceditque, ut Hymettia sole  
cera remollescit tractataque pollice multas  
flectitur in facies ipsoque fit utilis usu._

_Again he kissed her; and he felt her breast;  
the ivory seemed to soften at the touch,  
and its firm texture yielded to his hand,  
as honey-wax of Mount Hymettus turns  
to many shapes when handled in the sun,  
and surely softens from each gentle touch._

– Ovid, _Metamorphoses_ X: 282-86.

Darcy couldn't sleep. No matter what she did, she felt itchy, hot and uncomfortable, like no matter what position she lay in she _had_ to move. Like she didn't fit properly inside her own skin. She felt like pulling her own hair out in frustration.

She rolled over onto her stomach and kicked the bed hard. It didn't help. She kept rolling, falling gracelessly out of the bed and onto the floor, dragging her blankets with her. She stood up, jumping up and down a couple times trying to try and shake the nervous, twitchy, can't-stand-still feeling out of her legs.

She paced idly around the room in circles, her fingers clenching and unclenching, drumming out staccato rhythms on her arms where she'd crossed them.

She wanted the sceptre.

She wasn't sure where they'd taken it, but she couldn't get the thought of it out of her mind. She missed the strange vibrations it gave out, like the soothing purr of a cat. She felt strangely empty.

The implications of this frenzied, twitchy want didn't escape her. She felt less than whole without the sceptre in her hand, like a part of her had been detached and held captive. She could still sense it – a low, faint vibrating sensation, like an inaudible hum. Like it was calling to her.

She wondered if this is how Loki had felt.

There was a clear line in her mind between Loki and herself. Loki had killed people – physically _murdered_ people – and attempted a hostile takeover of Earth. He had tried to kill Thor (Darcy wasn't sure, actually, that he _hadn't_ killed Thor – Thor had seemed pretty damn dead until he, well, got better), tried to kill _her_.

Loki ticked all the boxes for 'evil', as far as she was concerned.

And she, she was not evil. She was Darcy Lewis – she still kept spiral-bound notebooks with doodles in the margins, she read books on feminism and learned all the things they never teach you in school about why some words cut like knives when everyone else thinks they're just funny, she wrote blog posts about the media, calling out rotten policies and politicians and making every last damn vote _count_, and she dreamed of making the world a better place to live in. She was _good_.

But what frightened her now was that changing the world was no longer an abstract. It wasn't about writing small blog posts, participating in protests, and sending letters to her Member of Congress anymore. Because there _were_ things wrong, horrible things.

Loki's words came back to her: _It is your part to play._

It was a tempting, awful thought.

And her palm itched with desire to hold the one thing on the planet that could get rid of them forever.

She found herself thinking of Loki more and more often. It was more like checking on him, rather than thinking _of_ him, really. Like the sceptre, there was always a small part of him tucked away in the back of her mind – currently silent and compliant.

She turned her thoughts towards him, giving him the mental equivalent of an exploratory poke and prod. It was all too easy to slip into his mind, like dipping her fingers into pudding – a slight press to break the surface tension, and then she was pulled in and surrounded in the viscous-like haze of Loki's mind.

Loki was strangely tranquil, almost vacant. It was hard to read his mind, simply because there really wasn't much _in_ it at the moment. It seemed almost childlike. All bright, primary colours and simple shapes, but much more still than a child would usually be. He seemed to recognise her presence, because everything suddenly lit up and she was surrounded by a soft sense of compliance and vacant happiness.

She found this very hard to reconcile with the evil Loki that was very, very much on the other side of a clear line from her in her mind.

Something about that thought seemed to trigger a reaction, and suddenly memories bubbled up around her. She was standing in the shadow of a great golden hall, a large patch of tan brown earth patted down by the weight of hundreds upon hundreds of footsteps before her. There was a small barracks to the side, and she could see rows of weapons gleaming in the warm light of the sun.

Thor, for it was unmistakably him, was standing, clutching a broadsword in both hands looking defiant even as the tip of it drifted down under the weight. He looked all of about eight years old, wearing leather padded armour that seemed almost too big for him. His blond hair was standing up in the back, sticky already with sweat. He was standing in front of what Darcy assumed was his instructor – broad shouldered, heavily armed.

"And, defend!" the instructor cried, lunging forward with his own weapon. Darcy could see Thor struggling with the weight of the sword, his movements sloppy and the momentum of the weapon sometimes sending him staggering, but he stood his ground and blocked every blow. The instructor stepped back, his eyes gleaming with delight.

"Well done," he said, and Thor beamed with obvious pride, looking straight at Darcy.

"Your turn, brother!" he shouted at her.

Darcy found herself stepping forward, and picking up a broadsword with shaking hands. It was much, much too large for her, and she had a hard time keeping the tip of it upright, much less still, when she lifted it in front of her. The instructor looked down at her with obvious patience and no explicit unkindness, but it was evident that Thor was the favoured pupil. The tip of her sword shuddered from the effort of holding it.

"The strength will come in time," the instructor told her gently. "But you must _work_ for it."

She felt a rush of fury at that comment, but bit her tongue to keep from shouting 'I _am_ working!' and simply focused on keeping the sword as steady as possible.

"And, defend!" he cried, springing forwards. Her block was too slow, and the blunt blade clipped the side of her head. She saw stars for a moment, and felt the burning heat of blood rushing to the wound. She overcompensated the strength required for the second block, and the motion and weight of the sword sent her spinning around.

"Focus!" the instructor shouted. "Find your core; do not strike blindly. Conserve your strength and use the smallest movement necessary for the greatest reward."

He struck again, and her blade when careening out of her hand with a metallic clatter. The instructor advanced once more, raising his blade, and her hands flew up automatically. Without thinking, she felt a prickling of energy at her fingertips, buzzing just under the surface of her skin, and she made a flicking motion with her hand.

The sword went flying out of the instructor's hand to land with an audible thunk in the dirt. Darcy scrabbled to her feet, brushing herself off and scuttling backwards towards Thor, who was laughing deeply.

"Remarkable, brother," Thor said, still chuckling and giving Darcy a slap on the shoulder hard enough to send her staggering slightly forwards. "Between your woman's magic, and Lady Sif's insistence she will grow up to be a warrior, by the time I am king the men will wear dresses and the women our armour!"

There was a bitter taste in Darcy's mouth as her stomach seemed to sink, and she felt hollow inside. Thor was still chuckling. "Oh, don't make that face," Thor said. "You bring it on yourself. The sword is not that heavy."

"It is heavy enough," Darcy heard herself say, though the voice was young, weedy, but definitely male.

"For Asgard's princess, perhaps," Thor said, still snickering.

Everything burned red hot. Suddenly she was pulled back, like coming up for air, as the world swirled and shifted around her. Loki's mind was no longer calm. It seemed to crowd around her, pressing in on her, bright red in anger. She felt like she was spinning – like she could no longer tell which way was up and which way was down. She caught snippets of conversations, pieces of Loki that seemed to rain down on her like shrapnel, like she'd crawled inside him and he'd somehow shattered.

She was hanging over an abyss, Thor looking down at her, begging her, as she let go. She was in excruciating, hopeless pain, and Thanos was there, laughing, until she starts laughing too – helpless, hysterical laughter that makes her lungs burn and her face twist up in agony and she can't _stop_. She was laughing with Thor, an arm flung over his shoulder as they lean against one another, singing drunkenly and staring up at the stars.

She was burning with a sudden wave of desire, watching the long curve of a girl's neck, the swell of her breast. The girl turned and smiled at her, inclining her head as she said, "my Lord Loki."

She sat down next to Darcy, and placed on long, slim-fingered hand on Darcy's forearm, as she leant in so close that Darcy could smell the heady scent of her perfume. Her eyes twinkled in the low light of the fire and she said, "shall we go somewhere a little more private?"

Darcy felt the bottom all but fall out of her stomach in a mixture of overwhelming want and terror, and her throat felt dry as she nodded, standing and taking the girl by the hand.

Then, suddenly, the scene shifted again and she was curled up in Loki's mother's lap, listening to the soft hum of her voice as she sings, one ear pressed against her breast so that the sound seems to swallow her whole.

She was betrayed. She watched the skin of her hands fade to pale blue.

Loki – the real Loki, though she's started to lose track of who is who – was screaming rage-filled wordless obscenities, railing against her. She started screaming back, lashing out in self defence. Until it isn't self defence anymore, and she was still lashing out, tucking Loki back inside a little box, and closing him in. She pressed him back into the far recesses of his own mind, until she filled the space.

For a brief moment she caught a flash of fluorescent lighting, and she was sitting on a hard bench, her hands bound uncomfortably in front of her, and the sharp edge of a metal gag in her mouth.

She tumbled, gracelessly out of his mind and back into her own, stumbling forward to grab hold of the small sink in her bedroom.

She looked up into the mirror and didn't recognise the person looking back.

…

"Have you ever read Asimov, Director?"

Fury looked up impatiently from the folder he was browsing. "Am I to understand you requested a meeting with me to discuss _literature_, Miss Lewis?"

"Not exactly," she said. "Asmiov suggested three laws of robotics. I'm thinking we could do something similar."

"I'm not following," Fury said in a tone that suggested he had better _be_ following soon, or this conversation was over.

"I mean Loki," she said. "I think I've demonstrated that he will follow orders. If we give him a set of catch-all rules to govern his behaviour, then maybe we could let him out."

"Why would I _want_ to let him out?"

"Well, if you want his input on planetary defence, hadn't we better let him actually have some input?" She leant forward, leaning her elbows on the desk. "He's not even got a bed in there."

"I'd suggest you not get too attached, Miss Lewis," Fury said, warningly.

"I'm not," she insisted. "I just think it would be more effective if we had him actually working in the lab. And I think we can do that safely. Even POWs are entitled to a certain level of good treatment."

"Kindly do not dictate the laws of this country to me."

"You have him locked up without a bed, and gagged," Darcy snapped.

"Do I need to remind you that he has _murdered_ over one hundred people? That he is not human?"

"Are you sure that second question isn't more important?" she asked.

He scowled. "I hope you are aware of where your priorities lie," he said, dangerously. "Do not forget that you are in SHIELD's custody, and charged with the protection of this _planet_. It is time to grow up, Miss Lewis. Hard choices will be made, and you _will_ comply. Is that understood?"

"I think you forget who you're dealing with," she replied, sharply.

"I know _exactly_ who I'm dealing with," he replied. "You're a scared little girl, who's bitten off more than she can chew. Do not make the mistake of thinking we won't neutralise _any_ threat to SHIELD, _internal_ or external."

She sat back in her seat, torn between shock and fury, speechless.

Fury sighed, rubbing his temples with one hand, diffusing the situation. "I have no desire to hurt you, Miss Lewis. I am just trying to do what is best for the planet. Now, what rules do you suggest?"

She took a steadying breath. "Well, rule one would be: Loki may not harm any human being or through inaction allow a human being to come to harm."

"Go on," Fury prompted when she paused for a long moment.

"Loki must answer questions and comply with requests made by any member of SHIELD, Avenger or individual otherwise associated with the project, so long as it does not conflict with the first law." She frowned. "It's less elegant than Asimov's, but Loki's more complicated than a robot."

"And the third?"

"Well, it doesn't have to be exactly three," she said. "The third law of robotics states that a robot should protect itself, providing it doesn't conflict with the first or second laws. I don't think Loki needs to be told that one."

"I see," Fury said, looking lost in thought.

"So, yes?" Darcy asked, hesitantly.

"I will consider it," he replied, tightly. "Now get out."

"Yes, sir," she said, grabbing bag and scurrying out of the room.

…

She felt a little bit like she was fraying inside. Like every sound, the incessant humming of the fluorescent lights, the endless sound of footsteps as SHIELD agents bustled about, the low murmur of voices, beat like a horrible endless soundtrack, pulling her closer and closer to the edge. She wanted to scream, unable to sit still, to claw at her ears, shut her eyes and just make it _stop_.

She needed _peace_.

She half-stumbled down the hallway, walking on autopilot until she came to one of the labs. There were two, heavily and conspicuously armed SHIELD agents standing outside. And she knew, without a doubt, that the sceptre was _inside_.

"I'm supposed to take the sceptre back," she said, as authoritatively as possible.

One of the agents gave her a long, level look that said quite clearly that he wasn't buying it. She was coiled like a tightly wound spring, every muscle in her body tense in anticipation. She was irrationally furious, wanting to lash out at him for keeping her from it. Her fingers twitched, and the maddening, constant pull from the scepter – _so, so close_ – tugged harder at her, pulling all of her skin impossibly tight, until she didn't even _fit_ in it anymore.

"Let her through," a voice came from behind her, and Darcy went almost eerily still, her heart thudding dangerously fast in her chest.

Natasha Romanov stepped up beside her, gesturing at the agents to move aside. Darcy darted forward into the lab the moment they did, crossing it in two quick strides and lifting the sceptre up, cradling it gently to her chest, like a horrible parody of mother and child.

Natasha watched her carefully.

"Fury is wrong," Natasha said, at last. "You aren't in control at all."

"It's fine," said Darcy, though deep down she was beginning to become aware of just how _not fine_ it was.

"Do not behave like a child," Natasha snapped. "You are endangering the lives of everyone on this base. You are _not_ in control, it is in control of you."

"There aren't any other options," Darcy replied, almost pleadingly. "You haven't seen what I've seen. There is an invasion coming, and they will kill us all. We _need_ Loki."

"We _need_ you," Natasha replied. "The responsibility is yours – stop focusing on other people and focus on yourself and your responsibilities. You must learn to control your thoughts, take charge of yourself. If there are no other options, then you must ensure that this one succeeds."

"I'm _trying_," she said.

"Try harder."

White-hot fury burned through her veins. "Don't you think I _am_? Don't you think I realise what is happening?"

"Then take responsibility for it," Natasha replied, sharply. "Control is a learned practice, not a _talent_."

"I _have_ taken responsibility!" Darcy screamed back, clutching the sceptre so hard her knuckles went white. "What do you think I've been _doing_? Do you think I _want_ to conduct interrogations? To have meetings with Director Fury? To be looked up like a prisoner and treated with suspicion everywhere I go?"

"If you are incapable," Natasha said, dangerously, moving closer. "Then you should pass the sceptre on to someone who is."

Possessiveness, to an extent she'd never, ever, felt before, surged through her, and she actually _growled_ as she stepped back.

"The sceptre grants you complete power over another," Natasha continued, in that same, dangerous and low, almost seductive, voice. "Complete control, over yourself, over others. It requires a greater mind than yours. In your hands, it is _wasted_."

Darcy lashed out, swinging the sceptre in a wide arc. Natasha caught it deftly in her hand, ducking under it and using the motion from the swing to send Darcy careening, off-balance into the wall. Natasha darted forward, pinning her there in a surprisingly strong grip.

"People will always assume they are better than you," she said. "They will always assume you are incapable. They will always underestimate you. They won't expect much from you, because of how you look, and how you act. Prove them wrong. That is how you win."

"What if I'm not?" Darcy said, quietly.

"Then, when the sceptre takes hold, I will kill you myself." Natasha let her go, stepping back as Darcy rubbed her wrists where they'd gone red from Natasha's grip.

"Prove them wrong," she said again, and then turned to leave.

"What would you do, if you had the sceptre?" Darcy called out after her.

There was a long pause.

"I would do my job," she said at last.

…

She was expecting Loki to be angry when she entered his cell. She knew that he was aware that she'd been rooting around in his mind, this morning.

Instead, she found him reading. He barely looked up when she entered. The gag was gone, but his hands were still bound. He was balancing a large textbook on his knees, with several more on the floor beside his feet.

"The Physical Universe: an Introduction to Astronomy?" she asked, reading the cover on the top book in the stack.

"If I am to assist your scientists in building a working Bifröst and preventing the Chitauri from opening a portal to your world, I require an understanding of science."

"What, all of it?" she asked, jokingly.

"I do not believe that the fields of Biology and Chemistry will be particularly relevant, but I wish to gain a basic overview none-the-less. The 'Social Sciences', however, seem utterly irrelevant."

"Hey, don't mock the Social Sciences. I'm a PoliSci major. Social Sciences are important, dude."

"PoliSci?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Political Science," she replied, sitting down on the floor, pulling the top book off the pile and thumbing through it. He watched her somewhat warily.

"I'm sorry," she said, awkwardly, staring down at the book because she couldn't quite face looking at Loki. "About this morning."

He sat, still and silent, and she could _feel_ his presence, acutely aware of just how close to her he was – and how she no longer thought of him as dangerous.

"This is a bad situation for all of us," she continued, half-wishing she would just stop talking instead of blathering on and making it worse. "I don't like you. I mean, you tried to kill me and take over my planet, which is frankly a bit off-putting. But I never meant for this to happen, and I shouldn't make this any worse for you – or me – than it has to be."

She tried very, very hard to stay out of his mind to gauge his reaction to that. She kept repeating the word 'control' in her head over and over, and thinking of Natasha's face when she'd said "prove them wrong". Still, Loki said nothing, sitting rigidly.

"You could say thank you," she said, after a long moment.

"Thank you?" he offered, hesitantly.

She wanted badly to ask him about what she'd seen in his mind, but it seemed grossly inappropriate. Instead she found herself saying, before she'd really thought about it, "I asked Fury to let you out. He didn't officially agree, but I'm hoping he will."

"I will need access to the lab space," he agreed. "If I am to build weapons and a method of preventing the Chitauri from reaching Earth, greater resources will be required than are available here." He gestured around the sparse room with the book.

"Right," Darcy said. "Have you found anything, yet?"

"Your mortal methods of scientific notation are extremely gauche," he replied.

"Do not _ever_ say that near Jane," Darcy replied.

He nodded.

"Thor said you guys use magic like science, right? As a way of explaining and manipulating the forces of the universe?"

"That is a simplistic summary," he said, "but it will suffice."

She ignored the slight dig against her intelligence. "And the sceptre, it works on magic?"

There was a momentary glimpse of _something_ in Loki's eyes, before they clouded over again into that same, vacant blue. She thought it might've been excitement, or the confirmation of a theory. Automatically, her hand tightened on the sceptre, and Loki's face seemed to smooth out even further, going slack and blank as she exerted her will over his. She barely even noticed it happening.

"Yes," he replied. "In this case, the magic amplifies intent."

"But you said that it wasn't my intent alone," she said. "The sceptre has a will of its own?" She looked down at it, cradled in her lap, as she traced absent patterns along its shaft, watching the way the light reflected off the gold and onto her fingers. It was hypnotising.

"It was made for a purpose," he said, carefully. "There are rules that govern the universe: you cannot make something from nothing. For everything that is taken, a price must be paid."

"Equivalent exchange," Darcy cut in. "I know, you said."

"To create magic that controls intent, one must create _with_ intent. The maker cannot be fully separated from the machine, for the machine is a conduit both for and _of_ his will."

"And the maker is?" she asked, afraid that she could guess the answer.

"Thanos," he replied.

"Great," she said. "So Thanos is a ghost in the machine. How do I get rid of him?"

"You cannot," he said, sharply. "The magic cannot exist without him. That is its price."

"And my price?" she asked. "When I use it?"

"That you must decide for yourself," he replied.

"And you?" she asked, after a long moment. "What was your price when you used it?"

She could feel him fighting her inside, a desperate clawing feeling as he tried to hold on to himself, keep something back. But he answered anyway.

"I feel from the Bifröst, unprotected. I fell through the abyss into the void. I fell until time was meaningless, and I had no concept of direction. Until I had forgotten the sensation of Earth beneath my feet, the sound of voices, the sensation of touch. It was then that Thanos found me." He spoke in a strange, toneless, staccato rhythm, and she felt like she'd crossed a line she probably shouldn't have, but she was too curious to ask him to stop.

"He explained his plans," Loki continued. "He placed the sceptre in my hands. He gave me purpose again. An identity, when I had none."

"And the price?" she asked, softly.

"The Tesseract, Thor, and my home."

"Asgard?" she asked.

He nodded.

"That's where Thanos was heading next?"

"Perhaps," Loki replied. "It is not out of the question, though he would find Asgard a much formidible adversary, and there would be fewer lives for him to take."

"Then what do you mean Asgard was the price?"

"Asgard is no longer my home," he replied. "The sceptre has taken from me anything that would ever be allowed back. There is nothing left."

He was looking at her, and though his face was still blank, there was something in his expression that seemed utterly compelling. Like somehow he'd reached out, and despite how much she maintained they _didn't_ have anything in common – somehow their hands had clasped across the gulf of their differences.

She felt sorry for him, and for herself.

She shivered as she had the eerie feeling that she was looking at her own future.

* * *

**Footnotes:** The Three Laws of Robotics are, of course, the work of Issac Asimov. They appear in the short story "Runaround". Also, for anyone interested in Norse magic and how it intersects with Norse conceptions of gender, or in the myth of Pygmalion (upon which this story is very loosely based), I've got a couple short pieces of writing up at my LJ. Links are available through my profile. For anyone not interested, apologies for the shameless pluggery. :P


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes: **I am tremendously grateful to Skadi for helping with characterisation, and smoothing out the kinks in this chapter, and for generally being tremendously supportive and awesome.

* * *

_oraque tandem  
ore suo non falsa premit, dataque oscula virgo  
sensit et erubuit timidumque ad lumina lumen  
attollens pariter cum caelo vidit amantem._

_Now real, true to life-  
the maiden felt the kisses given to her,  
and blushing, lifted up her timid eyes,  
so that she saw the light and sky above,  
as well as her rapt lover while he leaned  
gazing beside her_

– Ovid, _Metamorphoses_ X: 291-94.

Darcy was wide awake when Natasha knocked on the door the next morning. She was already on her feet and had flung open the door before she even realised she was doing it. Both Natasha and Darcy looked surprised for a moment, before Natasha schooled her expression. She was holding the sceptre in her hands, and Darcy grabbed it from her without thinking.

Natasha gave her a long, hard look.

"It's yours to keep, for the moment," she said. "Don't make me regret it."

Darcy gripped the sceptre tightly, staring at Natasha in confusion. "I don't understand," she said. "After everything you said – you're giving it to me?"

"_Director Fury_ is entrusting it to you," Natasha replied, "against my recommendation. It would seem he has taken your suggestion to heart. You are responsible for the sceptre at all times – and you are responsible for Loki at all times. He is being released into your custody today."

"Loki?" Darcy repeated, slightly dumbfounded.

"That is what you asked for," Natasha said, pointedly.

"Yes," Darcy said, shakily. "Yes, it is."

Natasha nodded, and held out her hand, dangling a set of keys. Darcy grabbed them, turning them over carefully and frowning. They looked magnetic.

"They're the keys to Loki's cuffs," Natasha said. "He's to wear them for any activities where the use of his hands is not explicitly required."

Darcy's gaze flicked up from the keys to Natasha's face at that. "You want me to chain him up at the end of the day like a dog?" she demanded.

"What makes you think that is any different than what you are already doing?"

A mixture of complete and devastating shame, and unmitigated fury rushed through her veins.

"Don't lose the key," Natasha said, evenly, as Darcy bit down on her tongue _hard_ and tried not to say anything.

"Can I get access to the lab facilities? We may need to build a device to prevent a portal from opening," she said, once she'd got herself better under control.

"You are to be granted full access to the lab space and the non-restricted areas of the base," Natasha replied. "Under the understanding that your activities will be monitored at all times."

"Right," Darcy said, flatly. "Of course."

Natasha gave her a strange look, a mixture of sympathy and frustration. "There may come a time when you will find yourself grateful for it," she said, more softly. "We aren't your enemy – we want the same thing: to protect the Earth."

"Yeah," Darcy said, bitterly. "I just don't want to protect it at my expense."

"Then keep an eye on Loki," Natasha replied. "And two eyes on yourself."

…

She was surprised to hear voices coming from Loki's cell when she made her way down. She was even more surprised to find Captain America – ridiculous star-spangled suit and all – standing outside Loki's cell.

The library books had migrated into haphazard piles, some left open and lying atop one another across the floor. Loki had one balanced against his leg, which was bent as he sat sideways on the bench, resting his back against the wall.

Loki was staring straight at her when she walked in, like he'd known she was coming. Steve looked her up and down in concern, his brows bunched together.

"I'm told that I am to be released," Loki said, pleasantly.

"Yes," Darcy replied. "You're to be released to my custody."

Loki nodded, looking pointedly at the door.

"Miss... Lewis, is it?" Steve interrupted. "I don't believe we've met yet. My name is Steve Rogers." He held out a hand, smiling slightly.

"Yeah, I know who you are," she said, without thinking. She felt her cheeks grow hot as she blushed, and she could _feel_ Loki staring intently at her – she sensed curiosity and derision from him, and she sent back the mental equivalent of a shove. He didn't stop staring at that, but it felt less intense.

Steve was smiling self-deprecatingly. "The uniform is hard to miss," he said. "I was wondering if I could speak to you for a moment?"

"Uh, yeah," she said, glancing over at Loki and back again. "Sure."

He held his hand out, gesturing for her to walk ahead. They moved up the hallway to what seemed like an arbitrary point to Darcy, but she presumed it was far enough away that Loki couldn't hear them.

"I just wanted to introduce myself," he said, looking down at her in earnest seriousness. "And ask you how you were doing."

She blinked in surprise, too stunned to speak for a moment. "I'm fine," she said, after a long pause. "Thank you."

He looked a bit dubious. "I understand a little of what it's like to have the weight of everyone's expectations on your shoulders," he said, gently. "And I understand what it's like to be small enough that everyone thinks they can take you for granted."

She gave him a dry, pointed look at that, and he laughed, though it sounded slightly hollow. "I didn't always look like this," he said. "I sometimes wish I had pictures – but we didn't take many back then, and my family didn't have much." He shrugged, lightly.

"I heard –" she swallowed around the sudden, unexpected lump in her throat. "I heard you were frozen for almost 70 years."

He got a slightly pinched look on his face, and she swallowed again, muttering, "sorry."

"No need to apologise, ma'am, it's the truth."

"I'm still – I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she said. "I can't imagine..."

He smiled, trying to put her at ease, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I was just doing my part," he said. "I'm just grateful they found me." He didn't sound wholly convinced of that to Darcy, but she didn't comment on it.

"I never wanted to be a leader," Steve said, softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. "I just wanted to do what was right, for my country and for my fellow man. I had a friend – I looked up to him, and I always pictured him as the heroic type."

"It's hard to imagine you as anything other than heroic," Darcy said. "I mean, you pretty much define the trope – my dad had your comic books when he was a kid. I think we even had an old Captain America lunch box hanging around that he couldn't bear to throw out. You're a national hero."

"I'm just a kid from Brooklyn," he said, though he didn't sound any more sure of it than she was. "My point is – sometimes big things happen to people you'd least expect. They barely even let me into the army, and people thought I was a complete joke."

"And then the serum?" Darcy asked.

"The serum didn't make me a leader, much less a good one," Steve said, frowning. "I know you're trying to do what's right – but sometimes what's right isn't the same as what's necessary. Sometimes it's up to you to tell the difference."

"You think I should let Loki go," she said, flatly.

"I think there's a fine line between Loki holding people's minds prisoner, and you doing it," he said, not unkindly.

"I'm not like him," she said, sharply. "We _need_ him. We can't do this without him."

"People are looking to you to do this," Steve said. "SHIELD is relying on you, and I know you feel some responsibility towards them."

She felt tears welling up in her eyes, and was furious with herself for crying – in front of Captain America, of all people. She blinked them away as best she could.

"But they are looking to _you_," Steve said. "Despite what they say, they need _you_ as much as you think you need Loki. It's up to you to decide what is right, and what you are prepared to do."

He placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Just... think about it?"

She nodded.

He squeezed her shoulder again, and then let his arm fall to his side, stepping back.

"I'm not like him," she said, again.

"I hope you stay that way," he replied. "You're a good kid." She scowled slightly, and he grimaced. "Sorry," he said. "I woke up to a completely different world – although one with a lot fewer hover-cars than we were expecting; it's hard sometimes not to feel like a fuddy-duddy."

Her eyebrows shot up and she let out a light chuckle. "'Fuddy-duddy'?"

He grinned, and she burst out laughing.

He held out a hand to her and she grasped it in her own. He had a firm grip. "I meant what I said. And if you ever need help..."

"Thank you," she replied, somewhat uncertainly. "I should..." She gestured over her shoulder back to Loki.

He nodded, all traces of humor gone from his expression.

She couldn't help but feel like she'd tremendously disappointed him as she turned and walked away.

…

Loki was waiting for her when she stepped back to his cell, opening the door and stepping inside.

"You have been sufficiently lectured?" he inquired.

She grimaced. "Steve was trying to help."

"A great many people are 'trying to help'," Loki said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "We must focus on those who would be beneficial to our aim."

Darcy sighed. "Right. Well, they've entrusted you to my tender mercy, so we're going to the lab today. Have you made any progress with the books?"

"Yes," Loki said. "Although a bit simplistic, I believe I have an understanding of your 'physics'."

Darcy gave him a sceptical look. "If you were anyone else, I'd say you were an idiot."

Loki scowled, but Darcy ignored him in favour of reaching down to undo the handcuffs. He rubbed his wrists once they were removed. She placed the cuffs on the bench, feeling tremendously awkward.

"I'll have to put them back on this evening – SHIELD's orders."

He stared at her silently, and she wondered if she was just reading 'accusingly' into it.

"Come," she said. "We're going to the labs. But before we do –" She thought intently about the rules she'd devised – and focused them on Loki's mind, imposing her will upon his own. It was much easier now to slip into his thoughts, the gulf between them had narrowed considerably. She pressed the commands into his mind, like she was branding them on his thoughts.

"You understand?" she said, aloud – her voice sharper and more commanding than she'd expected. If she hadn't felt herself speak, she wouldn't have believed it was her own.

"Yes," Loki replied.

She stepped back – she hadn't even realised she'd stepped into his personal space, holding the sceptre level with his chest. She lowered it, point-down to the ground.

"Good," she said. "Let's go."

Loki fell into step beside her, looking for all the world like he belonged there.

"Do you have a plan? I mean, do you know how to stop them?" she asked, after they had walked in silence for a bit.

"Not yet," he replied. "We will need the Tesseract. It is not merely a source of power – but an agent of power. It will show us the way."

"Is there anything from space that isn't a sentient artefact?" Darcy muttered. "I'm starting to have tremendous sympathy Arthur Weasley's point of view: don't trust anything if you can't see where it keeps its brain."

Loki shot her a bemused look. "Is this Arthur Weasley a leader of men?"

Darcy coughed on her own spit as she tried to laugh and inhale at the same time. Loki watched her in mild alarm. "No," she said, wheezing. "But it's good advice either way."

"If you say so," Loki replied, derisively. "Regardless, the Tesseract will show us a way."

"I thought you were going to use it to _open_ the portal?" Darcy asked, her lungs still burning slightly.

"Yes," Loki said, slowly. "If it can be used to unlock the door, what makes you think it cannot also be used to _lock_ it?"

Darcy frowned. "What do mean the Tesseract will _show_ you?"

His gaze shifted down to the sceptre in her hands. "The sceptre can read the Tesseract as it can read the minds of others," he said. "Through it, and you, I can obtain what I need."

"_You_ can reach it through _me_?" she asked, sharply.

Loki smiled. "Of course – what is the sceptre if not another key? You have opened the lock – and the passage is open both ways."

"What do you mean?" Darcy asked, pressing down on his mind, compelling him to answer.

"The sceptre exerts your will upon mine. It strengthens your will, and allows you to overpower me. But I still exist – and the path between our minds is open. You have become part of me, but I also have become part of _you_."

"Can I stop you from entering my mind?"

A flash of displeasure passed across Loki's face, but it was short-lived. "You would have to eradicate me – erase all that I am and replace it with something of your own creation. You would have to kill me."

Her mind pricked up, sensing dishonesty, like a pale yellow sliver in the grey truth of his statement: he was lying.

She frowned. "That's not completely true – you're hiding something."

The shutters on Loki's mind seemed to snap shut – but not fast enough.

"I can order you to stay out of my mind," she said, catching the thread of his thought. "Stay out: I mean it, Loki. And don't lie to me again."

They walked the rest of the way to the lab in silence.

…

Jane took one look at Loki and Darcy, and went so pale she was almost translucent. Erik, who was sitting in the corner of the room went extremely still.

"You're working _here_?" Jane asked, dropping her notepad and pencil onto the workbench.

"He needs to look at the Tesseract," Darcy replied.

"That's _my_ research," Jane said, stiffly. "Mine and Erik's – we don't need him."

"We _do_ need him," Darcy said, earnestly. "I'm sorry Jane, but we _do_."

Erik stood up, slamming his notebook down on the table with a resounding bang. "He kidnapped me, Darcy, tried to kill you and Jane and tried to take over the world. As long as you are working with him, you are not working with me."

Something inside Darcy completely snapped.

"I have _had_ it!" she screamed, and Jane stepped back in surprise as Loki turned to stare wide-eyed at her. "I have _had_ it with everyone giving me their advice like they understand what I'm going through. I am sick of people assuming that I'm not thinking about what's happening, and that I am not making choices based on what is _right_. I am sick of people assuming that I am either too stupid, or too morally corrupt to understand what is going on here. Let me make this really, really clear: I. Am. Saving. The. Planet."

Erik opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. "_Shut up_! Do you think I _like_ doing this? Do you think this is something I _wanted_? The world is going to be destroyed, and I have the power to stop it. _I_ have that power – so stop blaming me for trying to use it. You can either help me, or you can get out right now."

"I think you have made things entirely clear," Erik said stiffly, before turning and walking out of the room, the door of the lab slamming shut behind him.

Darcy turned to look at Jane, who was looking shell-shocked.

"I'm sorry," Jane said, backing up. "I can't, Darcy. I can't be part of this."

Loki was still watching her.

"Don't say anything," Darcy said, blinking back tears for the second time that day. "Just – just do whatever it is you have to do."

He nodded, moving over to examine the Tesseract, and the computer monitors hooked up to it. Darcy pulled Jane's notebook towards her, thumbing through it. She couldn't understand most of what was in it, and it just reminded her of _before_ – when she was nothing more than Jane's assistant, and she'd spent hours trying to decipher this handwriting.

She pushed the notebook aside, and slumped forwards, crossing her arms and resting her forehead against the cool metal lab table.

She stayed like that for a long while, until Loki quietly piped up from the other side of the table. "I require your assistance."

She lifted her head until her chin was resting on the table, peering at him over her arms. "With what?" she asked.

"The Tesseract," Loki replied. "With your caveat in place, I cannot reach into it. You must retrieve the information I seek."

Darcy slid off her seat, coming around to his side of the table and peering down at the Tesseract. It seemed to be filled with the same molten blue substance as the sceptre, swirling violently beneath its surface.

"What do I do?" she asked.

Loki came to stand beside her – almost too close for comfort. She could feel the leather of his armour just a hair's breadth away from her arm, and feel the air between them seem to crackle like it was charged.

"You must open your mind," he said. "The Tesseract imparts wisdom only to those willing to receive it."

He moved to stand behind her, and she could feel a very slight chill radiating off his body. She shivered – not so much from the cold, but from the sheer _intensity_ of his presence. It was like she was hyper-aware of where he stood in relation to her all of a sudden. Like her skin had been magnetised, pulling her towards him.

"Look at it," he said. "Look deeply – and ask how to keep the portal closed."

He passed over to her other side, still so close but never touching her – as he checked the monitor, frowning slightly at the figures he saw, though what they meant she hadn't the foggiest.

He glanced back at her. "Look," he said. "You must look."

She turned, finding herself unexpectedly flustered. She took a step away from him, trying to put some distance between them. He didn't seem to notice, too engrossed in whatever the screens were doing.

She took a deep breath, giving herself a shake to clear her mind and looked deep into the Tesseract, watching the swirling wisps of blue churn within it.

She would have been hard pressed to put her finger on exactly _when_ or _how_ everything shifted, but suddenly she was overwhelmed with information. She saw portals opening and closing through space, like quick-blooming flowers – moving between the realms, flicking in and out of existence like twinkling stars. She saw far-away, impossible worlds, stairs that hung over empty space, ruined ice palaces, and golden towers rising up into an impossibly beautiful sky, and all of these, hung like ornaments – whole worlds, impossibly big and impossibly small all at the same time – cradled in the branches of the world's tree.

It both was a tree and wasn't at the same time – and there was something utterly giddying and breathless about seeing it – seeing _everything_all at once – the cradle that held her world.

She felt completely and utterly _alive_.

And then, bubbling up to the surface, she saw it. She recognised it for what it was: a way to turn back a portal once it was opened, but she didn't understand it at all.

She stumbled back, falling out of the swirling well of the Tesseract's knowledge. Loki caught her arm before she ran into the chair behind her, and she almost jumped at his touch. They stood there for a long moment, her breathing slightly too fast as she stared up at him and his face impassive.

Slowly he uncurled his grip one finger at a time and let go of her arm, his hand falling to his side.

"Did you see it?"

She swallowed. "I saw – I _saw_..."

Something subtle shifted in Loki's expression, and he looked almost _kind_. "The sceptre has broadened your mind much further than any of your kind are accustomed to," he said. "The experience can be... overwhelming."

"I saw the tree," she said. "And everything – other worlds. Oh, god, I saw _other worlds_."

"You knew they existed," he said, mildly.

"Yes, but I hadn't _seen_ them. Not all at once." She sat down, leaning her elbows against the table staring at the Tesseract warily. She was torn between a desire to run from it, and a burning need to go back to it – to see more, to see _further_.

"I wouldn't recommend a second attempt just yet," Loki said, smoothly but deliberately placing himself between her and the Tesseract. He kept adjusting the metres on the screen – she was astounded at how proficient he seemed to be at it.

"I did see what we need," she said. "Except I'm not sure how to explain it."

Loki blinked, frowning at her.

"I mean I saw the whole process, but," she shrugged. "It just looked like magic. I'm still not sure what we are supposed to _do_."

Loki grimaced. "Well that complicates matters," he said, flatly. He made a noise a bit like an angry cat under his breath.

"And you will not allow me to see the Tesseract?"

"Can you do so without accessing my mind?" she asked.

"No," Loki said.

"Then no," she replied. "I won't. I don't trust you in my mind."

"It is not a question of trust it is a question of survival!" he hissed, furiously.

"I won't do it, Loki," she said. "I can't risk you getting the upper hand. There must be another way. I'll take another look – maybe the Tesseract can just teach me what I need to know to understand it."

Loki looked at her speculatively. "No," he said. "I have a better plan. I will teach you."

She sat up straight. "Teach me?"

"Magic," he said.

"You're going to teach me magic," she said, flatly.

He looked for a moment like he was reconsidering the idea.

"The Tesseract runs the risk of overwhelming your mind as long as you carry the sceptre. If your mind is overwhelmed, mine runs the risk of being lost – as does, of course, your planet. With the sceptre and the access to my mind it provides, you should be able to learn sufficient skills to employ the method. The only variable which concerns me is time."

She squared her shoulders, looking grave. "OK," she said. "What do I have to do?"

"Magic," said Loki, immediately sounding like a lecturing professor. She fought the urge to slouch and start doodling in the margins of a notebook. "Is the manipulation of the energy that flows through the universe. You take the existing energy and transform it into something else. You cannot create something from nothing."

"OK," Darcy said. "How do I do that?"

"You must first learn to feel the energy, before you can manipulate it."

She blinked. "Oh! And the sceptre can help me do that?"

"Yes," Loki said. "Though it will require conscious effort."

"But you're magic, right?" Darcy asked. "Is that why you feel all –" she shook her hands in a vague approximation of getting electrically shocked "BZZZZT! when I get close to you?"

Loki stared at her as if she were a lizard that had suddenly stood up and done a co-ordinated song and dance routine.

"What?" he asked, at length.

She blushed, feeling ridiculous. "Nevermind," she said.

"Close your eyes," he said, in a way that really, really wasn't helping with the fact that she was trying to piece together the implications of being suddenly and almost painfully aware of his presence at any given moment.

She shut her eyes, wiggling a bit on the stool, feeling a bit ridiculous.

"Allow your other senses to take over. Use your mind to seek out the energy in the room – feel the pathways, and trace them with your thoughts. Reach out and take hold of them," he said, his voice low and toneless as he moved to stand closer to her. All the hairs on her arms suddenly stood up and she shivered.

"Focus," he said, from beside her.

At first there was nothing. There was nothing for rather a long time, actually, save the strange patterns of colour behind her eyes. Her leg felt itchy.

"It's not working," she said.

Loki made an impatient noise.

"_Focus_," he said again.

She tried – she really did. Her brows furrowed as she tried to search out something she couldn't quite picture and didn't really understand. All she could hear was the hum of the Tesseract and the fluorescent lights overhead.

Loki stepped towards her, standing uncomfortably close again.

"Look into my thoughts," he said. "See what I do, and then duplicate it."

She slipped – almost effortless now – into his mind, and this time she was guided. Loki pulled her in, and she had the sensation of almost being taken by the hand and lead.

She was in Asgard again – sitting on the floor, a man with an eyepatch, who she assumed was Odin, sitting across from her.

"You have to _look_, Loki," he said. "Look beyond the material – look deeper."

"I'm trying, Father," she said – though the voice and the body was not her own.

"Try again," Odin said. "Close your eyes."

She did – and at first she saw nothing. And then – then she saw them. Like ribbons, drifting through the room. Odin was lit up like a Christmas tree, energy swirling around him, diving in and back out like it was dancing over his skin. Trails of energy wound themselves like snakes around table legs, and crawled along the ceiling.

"I can see them!" she heard herself say. "I can see them, father!"

She opened her eyes again – and Odin was looking down at her, smiling with a mixture of pride and uncertainty. "Well done," he said. "Remarkable – you are very young to see so well."

And then she was pulled back, gently this time, and lead back out.

She opened her eyes, blinking under the harsh lights of the lab. Loki was staring impassively at the screens, deliberately not looking at her.

"That was beautiful," she said, softly. "You see everything like that? All the time?"

"Yes," he said.

"He was proud of you," Darcy said.

Fury cut through her like a knife, surging from Loki into her and crashing, like rough waves on against a cliff face.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have..."

Loki said nothing.

"I think that's enough for today," she said. "Maybe we should start again tomorrow. I think we could use a fresh start."

…

After dinner, she stumbled, exhausted back to her room. Throwing on pyjamas and heading to bed without bothering to brush her teeth. Her head had barely hit the pillow when Thanos found her.

* * *

**Endnotes:**

Yes, I realise I ended it there. Please nobody murder me.

The quote and reference to Arthur Weasley comes from JK Rowling's _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_.


	7. Chapter 7

**PLEASE NOTE: **The warnings for this fic are in effect for this chapter. This fic contains elements of non-con and explicit sexual content. If that's not something you're comfortable reading, I suggest backbuttoning now. _  
_

* * *

_"Sometimes a breakdown can be the beginning of a kind of breakthrough, a way of living in advance through a trauma that prepares you for a future of radical transformation."_

- Cherrie Moraga

…

It was like being pulled out of her own mind, and it _hurt_. She was ripped from herself, and dropped onto a barren, impossible planet, opening out into the deep darkness of space.

The sceptre appeared in her hand, and she felt it thrum – in excitement, or warning, she wasn't sure.

But either way she wasn't alone.

The creature she had met before was leering at her, its teeth bared and its thin lips pulled back in a sharp, animal-like parody of a grin. She turned to run, but it was faster. It reached out, grabbing her by the back of the neck, and she could smell the stench of sweat and unwashed skin.

It dragged her up a long flight of stairs, pulling her up by her hair each time she stumbled as she frantically tried to keep pace. At the top, it shoved her violently, sending her sprawling to the ground, her face just inches away from a pair of boots.

Slowly, in a ridiculous double-take that would have been comical if she hadn't actually _been_ in this situation, she looked up to find a man staring down at her, grinning maliciously. He was purple-skinned, broad, bright eyed, and as close to monstrous-looking as Darcy had ever seen. And he looked very pleased to see her. She scrambled to her feet as best she could, clutching the sceptre tightly and holding it out, blade-first towards him. She recognised him from Loki's memories; she had at last met Thanos.

"So this is the mortal that brought down a god," he said, chuckling. It was deep, horrible sound, like something was off or unnatural about it. It prickled her skin, but almost immediately the sceptre responded, pulsating with power that felt disturbingly like pleasure at the sound of his voice.

"You must be Thanos," she said nervously. "I've heard a lot about you."

"And I have not heard of you, and yet here you are."

She wanted to take a step backwards, but she could feel the presence of the Other behind her, breathing heavily.

"You have something of mine, mortal," Thanos said, stepping uncomfortably into her personal space. His sheer bulk completely dwarfed her, but she stood her ground, pressing the blade of the sceptre against his chest.

He laughed again, and it sent a horrible shiver of revulsion up her spine. "You cannot threaten me with my own weapon," he said. "That sceptre was made with my blood, my mind and my soul – it does not answer to you."

"Yeah? Try me," she said, full of panic-induced false bravado despite her near pants-wetting levels of terror.

Thanos' grin turned, if such a thing were possible, even more malicious. He reached out, and grasped the head of the sceptre, clamping down hard on the blue gem at its core which whirred excitedly, sending tingles up and down her arms. She felt her control slipping, as the sceptre seemed to crawl towards him in pleasure. It hummed, so loudly it was like it was screaming, in her mind.

"How did you come by this sceptre?" he asked, sharply. "Where is Loki?"

She felt an all-pervading calmness wash over her, drowning her panic and her terror. She felt her muscles go slack, out of her control, as she relaxed to stand tranquil, and vacant before him.

"I took it from Loki," she heard herself say, but it seemed almost as if the words weren't hers at all. It was like she was observing the whole thing through a fog, as someone passive, not present and participant in the proceedings.

It felt wrong, but each time that thought occurred, another wave of calm would roll in and she would forget.

"How?" Thanos asked, pressing down on her in her mind.

"Tased him. He was trying to kill me, to kill Jane. I panicked and grabbed it."

"And how were you able to use it?" Thanos demanded.

"I..." She wanted to reply. She wanted to _please_ him. He was asking, waiting... She didn't know.

"Why you?" he asked again, grabbing her arm. His thick fingers pressed into her skin hard enough to bruise as his mind pressed against hers.

"I don't know," she said, begging. "I don't understand."

"What do you want? What do you intend to do with it?" he asked.

And then he reached inside her mind and pulled it apart, like he was unravelling a knot.

The question seemed to echo in her thoughts over and over again '_what do you want_?'

She saw herself, standing over Jane and Erik, the sceptre clenched tightly in her hands. It was power – raw, unbridled power. They were _hers_ to command, hers to _own_.

She saw herself reshaping the world, fixing it. She saw herself defeating Thanos' armies, driving them back, the sceptre raised high like a military standard, glinting in the light of the sun.

Natasha's warnings played over and over in her mind, against the images of the conqueror she could be.

She saw Loki. The sum total of her interactions with him flickered by like frames of a film. He was kneeling at her feet, she was commanding him, he was laughing.

She felt Thanos' interest, as he pressed her thoughts towards Loki. Her memories of him seemed to bubble up around her, playing all at once, until she wanted to cover her ears to hide from the overwhelming sensation of sound and feeling. Every look, every command, everything she'd seen in his mind ran in circles over and over again, and all at the same time.

Above the din rose a single question: _what do you want_?

And then, slowly and quietly, the memories became more selective. Loki standing close to her in the lab, the way her skin had tingled at his proximity, Loki as a little boy, seeing magic for the first time... The wonder and loneliness she'd felt, and the sympathy. Loki reading, the line of his profile under the harsh lights of his temporary cell.

Thanos pressed further, asking always _what do you want_?

Unbidden, the memories slipped into fantasy. She felt phantom touches that had never happened – his hand on her back as the walked down the hall, and saw tendrils of magic weaving themselves around the room, around the long fingers of his hands, dancing like fireflies as he gestured.

They were in the lab, the magic lesson again, but this time he rested his hands on her temples, drawing her in physically as he opened his mind to her. This time he let her reach out, and run her hands through his hair, cradling him gently as he bared his soul. She saw his childhood, his family, his loneliness, and she pulled him close, holding onto him.

She, in this imagined past, felt his pain, shared it, and he was grateful, pulling her in deeper and clinging to her, as if he were mentally trying to press every inch of himself up against her, like he _needed_ her and couldn't bear to let her go.

She kissed him – or maybe he kissed her, she wasn't sure – and it was desperate and wanting, as he reached into her for the help and the peace she could give him. She imagined pulling their bodies together, spreading her legs and letting him fit in between them as he tangled fingers in her hair. She imagined kissing him deeply, pouring herself into that kiss and running her fingers over his cheekbones, his neck, his shoulders. Feeling the sharp lines and angles of his body, and tracing them all with her tongue.

Something in the back of her mind, something that was still awake, and still Darcy Lewis, was begging for this to stop.

Thanos pressed harder, laughing.

In her mind, she and Loki were pulling at each other's clothes now, pressed up against one another desperately. She wanted him – but more than that, she wanted him to want _her_, to _need_ her. His fingers shook against her thighs as she imagined them trailing down to hike up the hem of her skirt. She imagined wrapping a leg around his waist to hold him close, as his hands grabbed her backside and lifted her up out of the seat. She imagined the tenuous balance, her arms around his shoulders, his hands on her ass, holding them together as they kissed, teetering on the edge of a precipice where one wrong move would send them both sprawling. But they would keep steady, stay in that one perfect spot of balance and counterbalance, him and her, together creating something more than the sum of their parts.

She imagined tangling her hands in his hair, and pulling it tight. She imagined driving him absolutely wild with want, until he was incoherent. She wanted to strip language from his tongue with her own, until his mind was quiet of everything but _her_.

She wanted to _own_ him.

The endless hum of the sceptre grew louder until it was roaring in her ears, pounding to the frantic beat of her heart. And Thanos was still laughing in delight, as the part of herself that was still whole screamed.

Loki, in her mind, traced patterns with his tongue along her thighs, dropping to his knees between her legs. She grabbed his head and pulled him forwards, sending him sprawling forwards slightly, off-balance. He recovered quickly, pushing his tongue into her, as she leant backwards to rest against the lab table, still holding his head firmly in place. She could practically _feel_ his tongue against her, imagine the sharp musty tang of sex in the air. She imagined the noises he'd make, and she pictured him, unable to help himself, pulling his erection free and working it with one hand as he devoted the rest of his attention to her, licking and sucking in time with the movement of his hand on himself.

She imagined coming, shuddering with wanton abandon, screaming a wordless cry, brought over the edge just by his tongue and fingers alone.

It wasn't enough.

She remembered the feeling of seeing the threads of energy, the treads of _magic_ in the universe. She felt them, swirling around the image of herself and Loki in her mind's eye, burning white hot. She imagined grabbing him, pulling him up, sitting him in the chair and binding his hands and legs with tendrils of magic, spreading him open. She imagined tightening those bonds, until he couldn't move – until he could only stare.

She imagined pressing herself up against him, crawling into his lap and grinding against his erection and watching his eyes flutter closed. She imagined slowly doing it over, and over, and over, until he couldn't keep quiet anymore. She wondered what wordless cries, yearning and desperate she could pull from his lips. Whether he would respond better to fast or slow. Whether she could make herself come again just by grinding herself down onto him like this.

She wanted to strip him bare, pull him apart until she knew every square inch of him, inside and out. She wanted unfettered access to his mind. She wanted to fix him. She wanted him to want her to fix him.

She was imagining herself kneeling down in front of him, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the front of his trousers when it all suddenly seemed to snap back to reality.

She was panting, painfully aroused, furious and humiliated, standing on front of Thanos, still clutching the sceptre. He was eyeing her in grotesque amusement, his smile wide.

"Such small, petty ambitions," he said, laughing. "Perhaps this is not nearly as much a problem as I had thought."

She stepped back from him, shaking – in fury or terror, she couldn't tell.

He closed the distance in a single step, grabbing the sceptre again, covering his hand with his own and squeezing so hard she felt her knuckles pop. She felt another wave of his will crash over her, and she saw herself standing victorious on the roof of Stark tower, Loki by her side, gazing at her in abject adoration.

"Everything you want, will be yours," Thanos said, his voice echoing in her head, low and seductively. Loki's voice seemed to echo after it,_everything you want._

Thanos was laughing; she was screaming.

"Bind her," Thanos said, to the Other. "I want to see her again before she leaves."

She was dragged, stumbling back down the steps, and she nearly tumbled all the way down them. The creature merely shoved her downwards, hand on the back of her neck again. She felt ill, and hollow.

It led her to a shallow cave. It smelt putrid, coppery like blood, but tinged with the smell of sweat and bodily waste. She was pushed down onto a hard slab, the sceptre seemed to vanish in her hands, almost as it had become a part of her. The creature grabbed her arms, holding them above her head. She nearly gagged, and the chains that the Other used to bind her arms were sticky. In the faint light of the stars, she could see that the floor was spotted with stains she didn't want to identify.

She could barely make out the creature's face, leaning over her with that same, horrible, toothy grin. It gave a sharp tug to her wrists as it tightened the chain, and she felt the muscles in her shoulders twinge painfully.

And then it left.

She could still feeling the familiar, comforting hum of the sceptre. She breathed through her mouth shallowly, trying hard not to gag from the scent of the room. It seemed familiar, and she had the horrible sensation that Loki had been here before her.

She wondered if some of the blood on the floor was his.

She wondered if hers would be added to it shortly.

It was hard to tell how long she just lay there, breathing shallowly and trying very, very hard _not_ to think. She tried hard not to remember the imagined feel of Loki's hands against her skin, of kissing him, of Thanos laughing. She tried hard not to think about where those thoughts might have come from. She tried not to think of Jane, and the fact that a part of her had enjoyed the control she'd had over her.

After what seemed like ages, she heard footsteps, coming around behind her head. She felt hands – warm and nimble – on her wrists. The slick chains loosened, rattling loudly in the otherwise quiet cave.

She braced herself, expecting pain.

It didn't come. Instead, she opened her eyes and saw the unmistakable figure of Loki, staring at her in the faint starlight. Wordlessly, he reached out a hand.

"You're not real," she said. "Stop this. Not again."

He seemed surprised. "I am not _here_," he replied. "But neither are you. Regardless, you had need of me, and so I have come."

"It's a trick," she said, turning away from him. "Haven't you seen enough?"

"What are you talking about?" Loki asked. "What has he seen?"

She ignored him, torn between the desperate desire that he be real, that he was genuinely _here_, and the lingering suspicion that it was just another trick.

"Darcy?" he asked, reaching out to place two fingers gently on the inside of her wrist, as if he were taking her pulse. "What has Thanos done?"

She stared resolutely at the far wall.

"Feel the pressure of my fingers against your skin," he said. "I am here. I have come for you. Does this not feel real to you?" He picked up her hand, and pressed it against his chest, covering it with his own. She could feel the steady beating of his heart.

She went completely still, counting the beats of his heart. He was warm, and smelt like magic, like the air right before a thunderstorm. She could feel the familiar press of his mind on the edges of her own, sense his consciousness _here_ with her. She could feel his concern, his obligation and a tinge of fear.

He had come for her.

"Why?" she asked at last, turning to face him. "How?"

Loki sighed. "They are your commands," he replied. "I cannot knowingly, through inaction, allow you to come to harm."

"Where were you hours ago when Thanos was mind raping me?" she muttered, grabbing onto his tunic and pulling herself upright. Her legs felt numb, and she leaned against the slab afraid that she'd fall if she tried to walk.

Loki shot her a look of confused concern. "Also your command," he replied. "I cannot enter your mind, it must call out to me."

"I didn't call you," she said, teetering. He reached out and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close enough to support her weight. She flinched at such close contact, the images Thanos had pressed her mind into conjuring flashing through her thoughts. She looked down at the ground, and tried hard to not think of the feeling of his hand, warm on her waist, or the surprising wiry strength of his body.

"Perhaps not consciously," he replied. "But we have no need of such things now, you and I." He stopped them at the entrance to the cave.

"You must bring us back," he replied. "Summon yourself back to your body."

"How?" she asked.

"Focus on your body, and return your thoughts to it," he said, making it sound absurdly simple. "You are not truly present here. It is only your conscious thoughts that have been brought here. Your mind _wants_ to return to your body – once you find the correct path, the rest will follow."

She must've still looked confused, because he let out an aggravated sigh. "Close your eyes and _focus_," he said. "Remember your body – in your room at SHIELD. Picture yourself asleep there. Picture the last thing you remember before you were here. Imagine the sounds, the smells, the sensations. Focus on that, and only that."

She pictured the small room, with its cotton sheets, and the humming of the bathroom exhaust fan. She remembered the soft sounds of SHIELD agents moving around in the night, the sliver of light that crept under her door and painted a sharp line of yellow on the far wall. She remembered the smell, the sort of bland cleanliness of it.

She was about to tell Loki that she didn't think it was working when the ground suddenly fell out from beneath her feet. She sat up, back in her bed at SHIELD, and threw the covers off, stumbling to the bathroom and pressing her forehead to the cool linoleum floor.

When she felt stable enough to stand, she threw a robe over her ratty old Greatful Dead T-shirt and shorts, and wandered down to Loki's cell.

He didn't look surprised to see her.

She stood there awkwardly for a long moment, shuffling from foot to foot and wishing she'd bothered to put slippers on. Or possibly daytime clothing. Loki's full Asgardian armour was making her feel exposed.

"Thank you," she said, after a very long, very awkward moment of silence.

He nodded.

"I was wondering," she said, after it became clear he wasn't going to say anything. "You said you'd teach me magic, and, well... I don't really want to go back to sleep. Could we, maybe, do a lesson now?"

He dog-eared the page of his book and she winced, before he shut it with a loud snap and placed it aside.

"Of course," he said, gesturing for her to take a seat.

She tip-toed around the books he'd scattered across his floor, and took a seat on the far edge of the bench.

"Are you really reading all of these?" she asked, nudging one of the books with her toe.

"Yes," he said.

"Are they interesting?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Are you going to say anything other than yes?"

He paused, and then said, "yes?" looking confused.

She snorted in amusement, bringing her legs up and resting her back against the wall, letting her arms fall forward, elbows on her knees.

"Have you been able to see?" he asked.

"I've tried," she said. "When you showed me – it was _incredible_. I've never felt anything like that before. I've tried to see it, but I just... can't."

"If you believe you can't, then you won't be able to," he said. "It is a skill, like any other. It merely requires practice."

"Can you see it now?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied.

"Show me again."

This time, he reached out and placed his hands on either side of her head. It was exactly how she'd pictured it. His fingers pressed gently into her temples, and her skin felt electric where it touched his. Her eyes slipped closed as her mind reached out and linked with his.

And suddenly she could see another layer of the world, like a veil had been lifted. She could _see_ the energy of the room, as it coursed through currents and eddies. She could see the fabric of space around them, the way it seemed to bunch up around him, two sharp spikes of energy, burning a pale gold, sticking up from his head and curling back, echoing the shape of his helmet.

She stared at him, tiny particles of energy dancing around her head where his hands still rested against her skin. He seemed to be watching her, quietly reserved.

She reached out and placed a single hand on the side of his face, echoing the placement of his own. He remained perfectly still, waiting.

She could remember daydreaming of this – so vividly it felt like she was re-living a memory. She wanted to reach out and pull him to her, to_take_ him, in every sense of the word. Her fingers curled behind his ear and into his hair, and still, he sat, waiting.

And then she thought of Thanos, and she pulled her hand back, quickly, like she'd been burnt.

He let his hands fall, and the veil dropped back down.

She wanted him, badly. She wondered if he could tell.

"Thank you," she said, standing up and walking out of the room without looking back, before she did something she would regret.

She could feel his eyes following her even after she'd shut the door.

* * *

**Notes:** Apologies for the delay in getting this chapter up. Unfortunately, there will also be a delay between this one and the next. My boyfriend is flying in for my birthday and will be here for two weeks, so I won't be doing any writing during that period. I promise I'm not abandoning this fic – but don't expect an update until well into September, I'm afraid!

I'm really sorry about this – the initial outline was 6 chapters, so I'd planned to have been finished by now, but unfortunately this fic got away from me a bit.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes: **Sorry for the very long wait between chapters! I had a very hard time with this one. As always, feedback is very much welcome. And thank you very much to everyone that's dropped a review! I haven't been as good at getting back to everyone as I ought, so if I accidentally missed you (or you reviewed anonymously), thank you very much. :)_  
_

_"Strangulat inclusus dolor atque exaestuat intus,  
cogitur et uires multiplicare suas._

_A grief suppressed suffocates, it rages within the breast, multiplying its own strength under pressure."_

– Ovid, _Tristia_ V.I.68-9

* * *

She didn't run back to her room, though she wanted to. Her legs were almost twitching with pent-up energy, and she had the irrational, childish desire to just start running and not stop until she couldn't see the huge mess she'd landed herself into anymore. But it wouldn't solve anything, and she was fairly certain Thanos could still find her wherever she ran.

It was with this rather disconcerting thought that Darcy rounded the corner and stopped dead in her tracks. Jane was standing in front of her door, looking awkward and drawn. They looked at each other silently for a moment, Darcy in surprise and Jane in wary concern.

"You're up and about early," Jane said. She looked Darcy and up and down, from her bare feet to her worn and coffee-stained robe. The implied "and dressed like _that_" was left unsaid.

"You're at my door early," Darcy replied. "And, uh, you're at my door."

Jane looked, if possible, even more awkward than Darcy felt.

"I wondered if we could talk," Jane said, shortly.

"Sure," Darcy replied with false insouciance. She walked past Jane and into the room. "Come on in."

Jane hesitated on the threshold for just a moment too long, and Darcy felt her heart sink down into her feet. "Unless you'd like to go somewhere else?" she added quietly.

Jane seemed to give herself a little shake. "No," she said. "No, here's fine." She stood unnaturally straight, with her shoulders back and walked into the room like she was a soldier marching towards the front lines. It made Darcy feel a bit sick, and a lot annoyed. She wasn't sure how well she could cope with this without coffee.

Darcy stalked over to the bed and flopped down noisily on it, her robe fanning out around her as she wiggled her toes under the sheets. Jane looked around the room like she wasn't sure what to do with herself, before leaning up against the sink, directly across from Darcy.

"It's been pointed out to me that I may not have been entirely fair to you," Jane said, after a long pause.

Darcy bit her tongue to keep from repeating the word 'may' acidly back at her. Some of what she was thinking, however, must've shown on her face because Jane grimaced slightly.

"Thor said I should talk to you," she admitted.

"At eight in the morning?" Darcy asked, incredulously.

"I couldn't sleep," Jane said. "I was out for a walk. I hadn't meant to stop."

Darcy crossed her arms, and looked sceptically at Jane. "So," she said, drawing out the last syllable until it hung uncomfortably in the air between them.

Jane let out a huff of air. "I don't like what you're doing," she said, sharply, her words coming out in a sharp, staccato rhythm, like a hail of bullets. "I can understand it – or, understand why you think you need to do it, at least – but I don't like it at all. Thor was angry with me for leaving. He said you'd need friends now, more than ever."

"Thor's right," Darcy burst out. "It's all well and good for you to say you don't _like_ it, Jane," she shouted, the dam breaking on everything that had happened to her as it all began to spill out at once. "I don't _like_ it. I don't want to do this anymore, Jane. But I have to. I _have_ to. And you_left_ me."

"You had no idea what it was like!" Jane shouted back, taking a step forward. "You were in my head – I thought you were my _friend_, but I could feel you tearing through my thoughts, my memories, like they were own goddamn personal scrapbook."

"It's not my fault." She was curling up in on herself, pulling her knees up to her chest and her hands shook with fury and anguish. "I didn't ask for any of this. The sceptre –"

"The sceptre _made you do it_?" Jane hissed, furiously. "Then _drop it_, Darcy. Walk away. You're scaring me, you're scaring Erik. Nobody likes what you're becoming."

"I can't," she said, glaring at Jane. "It chose me. And someone has to stop the Chitauri. There is an _invasion force_ coming, Jane. The _planet_ is at stake."

"And that gives you license to rifle through people's minds? To violate your friends? You have no idea what I went through."

"You have no idea what I'm _going through_," Darcy said, her voice low and unnaturally calm. Her hands were clenched so tightly that she could feel the crescent marks of her fingernails digging into her palms. She could hear the relentless thudding of her own heart in her ears as she tried desperately to hold on. She wasn't sure precisely what she was holding on _to_, or what would happen if she let go, but she felt very much like she was on the edge of something. Like this moment was some kind of turning point between going on and giving up, and she was hanging by her fingernails.

Jane seemed determined to push her off. "I don't know what you want from me," she said. "Sympathy? I'm sorry this has happened to you, but it doesn't change what _you_ did to me."

"That I looked at your memories?" Darcy said, bitterly. "I was trying to set you free. The sceptre pulled me in deeper before it would let you go. You think you know what it's like to have someone tear your mind apart? To strip you down and find your hidden fears, your deepest desires, and parade them in front of you like it was a joke? I was trying to _help_ you, you _idiot_. I have been trying to help _everyone_ and it's about damn time you stopped harassing me and started _thanking_ me."

Jane recoiled as if she'd been slapped. "Thanking you?" she said derisively. "Put down the sceptre and walk away if it's so damn hard. If it's done anything to your mind you brought it on yourself."

Darcy seemed to crumple in on herself, as she let out a cry like a wounded animal. Jane seemed to realise immediately that she'd stepped over a line, and she rushed forward.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

The floodgates had opened, and Darcy couldn't've stopped herself even if she'd tried. She wasn't someone who cried often, almost never, actually, but once she'd started she couldn't stop. Jane's words had cut her to the quick, and the seemed to echo in her head, _you brought it on yourself_, over and over interspersed with the memories of Thanos' laughter as he pulled fantasies of Loki out of her mind. She felt disgusting, and she shrank away from Jane's hands which were trying to rub gentle circles on her back.

"God, Darcy," Jane said, looking almost as pale as the sheets. Her hands were steady, though. "What happened?"

Darcy didn't answer. She'd gone quiet, laying on her side, mostly still save for the tremors that still wracked her body. There were still tears running down her cheeks. Jane kept running her hand in slow, gentle circles over Darcy's back.

Then, with as much dignity as she could muster – which, wasn't much really, – Darcy sat up, wiping the tears off her face with the back of her hand and scooting away from Jane to sit, cross-legged, on the far side of the bed.

"I'm sorry," she said, hoarsely. "I've had a bad week."

Jane sat very still, watching her. "What did you mean," she said, softly but undeniably firmly, "when you said I had no idea what it was like to have my mind torn apart from the inside?"

Darcy winced visibly, before getting shakily to her feet, and opening and shutting drawers in her dresser loudly. "I'm sorry for crying all over you," she said, stiffly, going through the few articles of clothing she had with her. "You should probably go now."

It wasn't a subtle hint, but Jane ignored it anyway.

"What happened, Darcy?" she asked.

"Nothing I didn't _bring on myself_," Darcy shot back, darkly.

It was Jane's turn to wince. "I shouldn't have said that," she said. "You saved my life by grabbing that sceptre."

"Oh, you noticed that did you?" Darcy asked, with ferocious acerbity.

"This hasn't been easy for me," Jane snapped back. "You don't know what it's been like. It's not something I can just _forget_, Darcy. I felt like I'd been –" She broke off sharply, snapping her mouth closed with an audible clack.

"What?" Darcy asked, fuming. "'Violated'?"

"Yes," Jane said, stiffly.

Darcy's face contorted in a mixture of anger and despair. Jane swallowed and carried on. "I couldn't face you, not while you had that _thing_. And then, suddenly, you were spending all your time with _Loki_..."

"Oh, yes," Darcy said, in a low furious growl. "We have tea parties and talk about the weather and he's a fantastic bowler. I just _love_ his company. I have absolutely no reason why I might be _forced_ to spend time with him."

"Was it him?" Jane asked, looking intently at Darcy.

Darcy blinked and shook her head in confusion. "Was what him?"

"Was he the one who was inside your head?" Jane said, leaning forwards, looking grave.

All expression left Darcy's face like a shutter had been dropped over it. "No," she said, flatly. "Loki hasn't _done_ anything. He's been shockingly helpful."

Jane shifted, and the bed creaked loudly in the otherwise still room. "If it wasn't Loki..." Jane began, sounding tentative, but something about the sceptical and derisive way she said Loki's name made Darcy's blood boil.

"I told you," she said, slamming the door shut. "It wasn't Loki. He rescued me, if you really must know, from the guy who's leading the army."

She heard Jane suck in air over her teeth in alarm, and immediately she regretted saying anything. "What do you mean?" Jane asked, hurriedly. "He's here?"

"No," Darcy said. "No, the sceptre has some kind of connection –"

"_Connection_?" Jane echoed in mingled disbelief and horror. "Darcy –"

"I have it under control," Darcy snapped.

"No you don't!" Jane said, grabbing her by the wrist. She wrenched her hand away, but Jane kept hold in a surprisingly strong grip. "Come with me," she said.

"What the _hell_? Let me go!"

Jane didn't, and pulled her firmly out of the room and down the hall.

...

This was how Darcy, still with bed-head, eyes red and puffy with crying, barefoot and dressed in a tattered pair of PJs and a stained robe found herself standing in front of Director Fury and Agent Hill on what was already by far the absolute worst day of her life. Jane was standing off to the side, her arms crossed, looking disturbingly like a disapproving mother.

Fury was looking at her in askance. "Explain it again," he said.

"I _told_ you," Darcy said, through gritted teeth. "I don't know how it works. There is some kind of connection with the sceptre, and I was pulled there in my dream."

"And this man," Fury said, slowly, "Thanos. What did he say to you?"

She shuddered visibly, and she felt Hill's gaze on her sharpen. "I already told you," she said, belligerently.

"Tell me again," Fury said, in that same even tone that seemed to suggest he was on a very thin rope as far as patience was concerned.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair in aggravation. It got stuck halfway down, and she tried to surreptitiously detangle it. She wasn't very successful.

"He wanted to know how I got the sceptre. He asked me about Loki. He asked me what I meant to do with the sceptre."

"What did you tell him?"

"Nothing," Darcy said. "That I'd got it from Loki, that I hadn't intended to, and that I didn't know why it worked for me."

There was a long silence, as Fury regarded her seriously. She wrapped her robe around herself tightly, almost hugging herself as she shuffled from foot to foot.

"I don't appreciate being lied to," Fury said. "What else is there?"

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jane open her mouth to speak, and she cut her off. "And he pulled apart every embarrassing secret and personal thought I had and taunted me with them," she said waspishly, glaring at Jane. "Are you _satisfied_? Can I get _dressed_? Or do I require more harassing, _sir_?"

Fury sat back, steepling his fingers. "You will report every contact with this Thanos, or any other non-human _immediately_," he said dangerously. "I don't care if he drops in for tea and all you talk about is motherfucking biscuits. I want to know _everything_ he says, _everytime_he turns up. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly," Darcy said, between gritted teeth. "May I go now?"

"Get out," Fury said, waving her away with a scowl and turning to Agent Hill. She heard the soft murmur of their voices as she fled the room, Jane following along behind her.

"I don't want to talk to you," Darcy said, as Jane came up alongside her.

"I had to tell them," Jane said. "You can't do this alone."

Darcy stopped dead, and Jane had to scuttle backwards hurriedly.

"You've changed your tune," Darcy said, flatly.

Jane sighed, running a hand through her hair and staring fixedly at the wall. "Thor was right," she said. "I owe you an apology, and I'm sorry. I was so wrapped up in how upset I felt I didn't realise how hard it's also been for you. But I have to do what's best for _everyone_, including you. Fury needed to be told."

"You're very high handed for someone who wasn't on board with this at all," Darcy replied, acidly.

"I'm trying to _help_," Jane said.

"If dragging me in front of a goddamn tribunal in my pyjamas is your idea of _help_..."

"Well _your_ idea of help wasn't much better," Jane snapped. "It was your "helping" that got us into this mess."

"Us?" Darcy asked, incredulously. "How, precisely, is the alien invasion my fault?"

Jane made a noise of strangled fury and stamped her foot. "Why won't you _listen_?"

"Because you've said nothing worth hearing," Darcy said, sharply, and she turned on her heel. "I'm going to get dressed. Leave me alone."

"Fine," Jane said, angrily, turning in the opposite direction and stalking off.

Despite the fact that she'd got exactly what she'd asked for, Darcy felt strangely hollow as she listened to the sound of Jane's receding footsteps. She walked slowly back to her room, and slammed the door as hard as she could behind her.

…

She skipped breakfast and lunch, feeling unusually lethargic and unsure whether she wanted someone to come and check on her or not. She wasn't sure who would even come. She was struck by the odd thought that Loki might come, and she tried very hard not to think about why that made her feel so horribly hopeful.

She wound up lying on the bed, curled up and staring at the wall trying not to think. She slept for a long while, off-and-on again, feeling too empty to bother getting out of bed. By the mid-afternoon she decided enough was enough. She took a shower, and then, after getting dressed and sitting down, she got up and took another.

She crawled under the covers, pulling them over her head and letting herself sink into the dark cocoon of the blankets, concentrating on the slow rhythm of her own breathing. In the darkness, it was harder to hide from her own thoughts. She felt sick, not only at the memory of Thanos, the way he'd unravelled her and torn through her mind like it was made of tissue paper, but at what Jane had said.

_Violated_. She was angry, _furious_ at Jane for throwing that word at her. For _everything_ Jane had said. For dragging her in front of Fury...

She felt like the ground was slipping out from underneath her feet. She was disgusted with herself, that she'd made Jane feel that way. But she was _so_ damn angry.

Thanos was laughing in the corner of her mind. She remembered Jane's thoughts, the memories she'd seen. She remembered the sensation of power she'd felt as she'd gone through them, the desire to dominate.

She remembered feeling helpless at the hands of Thanos, compelled to answer, to show him everything he asked for.

Her mother's voice seemed to drift through her thoughts, disapprovingly. "_Do unto others as you would have them do to you._" She wondered, bitterly, if this was some sort of comuppance.

If it was, it felt undeserved.

She felt haunted in her own head.

It was like there was a weight pressing down on her chest, the more she focused on breathing, the harder it became. She threw the covers off, sitting up, as her chest seemed to tighten around her lungs, like she was being wrapped in a taut rubber band. She scrabbled at the headboard of the bed, gasping for breath, and she felt like she could hear the echoes of Thanos' laughter ringing throughout the room.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed like that, honestly feeling like she was moments away from death. Each breath seemed like she was taking it through a damp cloth pressed to her face, and her lungs burned painfully.

The door opened with a bang, slamming against the wall, and she jumped, wheezing harder. For a moment, Loki stood silhouetted against the light in the hall, utterly unmoving. Time seemed to freeze, and the burning in her chest subsided, as he looked down at her. Then, in a flurry of green and black movement, he dropped down beside her on the bed and took her head between his hands.

He was murmuring something softly, and she reached out to him and latched on, desperately. She felt calm wash over her like an incoming tide, and the tight, horrible feeling in her chest began to subside.

When she started breathing normally again, he was cradling her to his chest, and her hands were clenched tightly in the fabric of his cape. She was hit by the sudden, overwhelming feeling of embarrassment, and she sat up quickly and pushed him away.

He regarded her phlegmatically, smoothing out the wrinkles left by her hands in his cape.

"Sorry," she said. As an afterthought she added, "and thank you, I suppose."

He nodded.

She considered him for a moment. "How did you know?"

"You called out to me," he said, impassively.

"Fairly sure I didn't," Darcy replied.

He gave an odd sort of half-shrug. "Not in so many words. But we don't need words, you and I."

She shivered slightly with the eerie feeling of déjà vu, the statement feeling oddly intimate in a way he probably hadn't intended. It reminded her of the way he'd pressed her head to his heart to prove that it was really him. The immense relief she'd felt at the feeling of his warm skin, his beating heart, in the cold empty world Thanos had brought her to.

Fishing around for something to change the subject, she asked, "how did you get out?"

"I sprang the lock, and convinced the guard I was needed here," he said, blandly, looking a bit bored. "It was no great difficulty."

Darcy eyed him warily. "Do you mean to tell me, that you could have just walked right out at any time?"

"Yes," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Right," she replied, faintly. "Well, then."

Looking stiff and uncomfortable, Loki glanced at her and asked, "what is it that ails you?"

She picked at a loose thread on the blanket, giving a shrug. "It doesn't matter," she said. "I'm sorry I bothered you."

Loki shifted, and she felt the bed move beneath her. She pulled harder at the thread, determined not to look up at him, and torn between wanting him to stay and wanting him to leave.

"You have been deeply perturbed all day," Loki replied. "What did Thanos say to you?"

She grimaced, and looked away.

"The sceptre holds considerable power over you," Loki replied. "And Thanos will always be its true master. It allows him to see deep into your heart, and find things there that lie hidden even from you. It is a formidable weapon."

Darcy shuddered, but said nothing.

"But it also lies," Loki continued, in a carefully even voice. "It plants seeds that grow into thoughts in your mind. Do not trust anything he showed you – there is always an art of interpretation in defining the truth, and Thanos is undoubtedly capable of twisting it to suit his ends. Your thoughts are no longer wholly your own. Whatever he showed you..." Loki broke off, pausing for a long moment. She felt him looking at her, and she resisted the urge to cringe away.

"Whatever he showed you," Loki said again. "Was done intentionally to hurt you. Do not let it."

"It's not that simple."

"It must be, if you are to survive this." He was still looking at her intently, like he was waiting for a specific response. "As long as you wield the sceptre, Thanos has a door into your mind. You will only be able to defeat him if you do not allow him to defeat you."

She scowled, looking up at him for the first time. His expression was unusually blank, but she had the distinct impression that his eyes were full of anticipation. But of _what_?

"I don't think I can do this," she said.

Loki looked away, and she seemed to sag, like the air going of out a balloon. She felt, oddly, like she'd disappointed him.

He didn't make any move to leave, however. He just sat, staring at the far wall, seemingly lost in thought. There was something very tense about the line of his body, and the rigid way he sat, his hands lying awkwardly on his knees. His back was just a little too straight, his fingers too stiff. She frowned, watching him, at a complete loss as to what to say.

She felt like the tables had been unfairly turned on her again. Like _she_ ought to be comforting _him_.

The silence stretched on, until every movement she made, even the sound of her own _breathing_, seemed unbearably loud. Loki still didn't move.

When she spoke, her voice sounded unnaturally chipper. "So," she said, "since you're here anyway, can we go over the magic thing again? Take me through it step by step. We're not going to defeat this army by sitting around."

He turned and raised an eyebrow at her, and she forced herself to grin. He studied her coolly, before nodding his head in acquiescence. Slowly, sonorously, like even the act of instructing her on magic was an incantation in and of itself, Loki began to speak, and, for the first time all day, leaving Thanos and everything else aside, she listened.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes: **I apologise for the complete bastardisation of _seiðr_ and Norse magic – I've taken some very big liberties. I've also drawn inspiration from _Restless_, season 4 episode 22 of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_. Its influence should be evident to anyone who's seen the series.

* * *

_Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing,  
doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before_

– Edgar Allan Poe, _The Raven_

...

"_Focus_," Loki said, for the fourth time, a hint of impatience seeping into his tone.

Darcy frowned, wrinkling her nose as she tried to reach out with her mind and sense the magic around her as he'd asked her to. All she sensed was an impending migraine.

It was such an infuriatingly impossible task. It was impossible for either of them to put into words just _what_ precisely she needed to do. He'd shown her, and she'd _felt_ the process of going through the motions, but... It was like when she'd looked into the Tesseract. She'd understood what she needed to do, but the steps between point A and point B seemed to fall out from underneath her feet. The harder she tried to focus on the sensations she'd felt when she'd experienced Loki 'seeing' magic, the more it seemed to slip through her fingers like fine grains of sand.

She opened her eyes and looked at him as piteously as she could manage. Her brain was starting to throb unpleasantly and she rubbed her temples with her fingers.

"You are progressing with insufficient expedition," Loki said scathingly, and she glared at him. "We cannot afford this delay."

"I'm _trying_," Darcy said, in a much whingier tone than she'd intended. His gaze sharpened, and she glared back at him all the more furiously.

She threw her hands up in frustration. "I don't understand what you're expecting me to do! You just keep telling me I'm not 'looking hard enough'. I'm looking so hard I've gone cross-eyed, Loki. If I look any harder, I'll split my brain in two."

"Doubtful," Loki said tonelessly. He made an agitated motion with his hand, like he was about to run it through his hair, and then stopped abruptly. She felt his frustration prickling at the edges of her mind like stinging nettles. It only served to make her more frustrated.

Loki, however, seemed to rally himself. His hand was frozen in the air at shoulder height. Slowly, he let it fall back to his lap. His mind went curiously – and alarmingly – blank, like a wall had gone up between them.

"What are you doing?" she asked, sharply. She pressed forward with her mind, prodding at his, checking for cracks and back doors.

"I am endeavouring to prevent this from disolving into petty and pointless quarreling," said Loki, slowly. His expression was remarkably wooden, and his mind equally so. She could tell he was _there_, but there was a curious blandness, and an alarming absence of thought.

"Stop it," she said.

"You'd rather we bickered like children while your world falls to pieces at the hands of Thanos?" he asked, acerbically.

"I'd rather you kept your thoughts where I can see them," she replied. He recoiled slightly, and his lip seemed to contort angrily into a snarl for a brief, but telling moment, before his face resumed its unnaturally plegmatic countenance.

"As you wish," he said. His mind seemed to unfold and unfurl itself. She felt the rush of his emotions, anger, frustration... amusement? That was curious.

It took her a long moment to register that the amusement was her own. The tone, and, of course, the words themselves, had reminded her of_the Princess Bride_. Loki seemed utterly bemused by the influx of discombulated quotes and sensations she associated with the movie that seemed to pop of their own accord into the mental space between them.

Loki brushed them aside with a curious sensation that seemed to be the mental equivalent of a handwave.

"At this rate, you will never achieve sufficient proficiency with magic to use the Tesseract to close a portal," Loki said aloud. "We must take alternative steps."

"What," asked Darcy nervously, "precisely does that mean?"

"I will guide you on a journey within yourself," said Loki dourly, "and assist you in opening your inadequate mortal mind for the task at hand."

She scowled even more darkly at that, but he ignored her.

"It will require a temprorary lifting of your prohibition that I not enter your mind," he said, with careful nonchalance.

"No," she said flatly.

His dispassionate face broke into a formidible scowl, but he kept his voice low and even. "I will enter only your dreams," he said, "and only as a guide. I will not – how would you put it? – 'fuck around'."

She was almost inclined to agree to his request when he added, "besides which, I have already done so and you have not complained."

"_What_?"

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. "When you were called by Thanos," he said. "He did not phsyically bring you to him. And I, in order to retrieve you, entered your dream."

She was struck dumb with a mixture of fury and embarrassment, both at the thought that it should have been _obvious_ that was what he had done, and at the horrible memory of Thanos.

He was watching her carefully, in that irritating fashion of his, slightly wary like she was some kind of science experiment that he was worried might lash out at him. She felt like hitting him, to be honest, but it wouldn't really be fair.

She gritted her teeth. "Is this – and bear in mind that I _will_ know if you are lying, and I am _ordering_ you now to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth – is this the best and least intrusive means of effectively teaching me magic that you can think of?"

He regarded her carefully for a long moment, and then the corner of his thin lips turned up into a smile. "It is," he said, inclining his head slightly towards her in a gesture of capitulation.

"And what _precisely_ does it entail?" she asked.

"It utilises what you mortals refer to, I believe, as the 'unconscious mind'. I will guide you through a waking dream, where you will discover those parts of yourself that are preventing you from accessing the magic of the universe, and you will defeat them."

"So, it's like a vision quest?" Darcy asked, frowning.

Loki gave an odd sort of half-shrug that she took to me 'I don't know'.

"Great," she said under her breath. "Just great. How I got from Poli Sci and binge drinking to Norse shamanism and trans-dimensional monsters, I will never know."

"Excellent," said Loki, with what Darcy thought was entirely unwarranted perkiness. "We will begin tonight."

…

She didn't know what SHIELD thought of her, but she had a feeling her reputation, such as it was, was going to go in the tank after this particular escapade. Loki had retrieved a blue cloak, gloves and hood from somewhere or other (she'd thought about asking, but, at this point, it wasn't even on her list of top ten most burning questions). There was a spool of thread in his hands, and a strange smell of something, almost sickly sweet, in the air of her room. Loki stood, like an overgrown vulture at the end of her bed.

"It will be your dream," he said sonorously. "I cannot protect you, only guide you along the path. You must face yourself alone."

She looked him over, from the top of his fur-lined, lambskin hood, to his feet. She raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Are you going to stand there all night?" she asked.

"The sleeper must not be woken," he said. The air in the room seemed to be growing thicker, her limbs seemed to grow heavy. His voice rolled like thunder through the room, with a strange gravity to it. The world around her seemed to spin.

"Sleep, Darcy." She felt his long fingers close over her shoulders, guiding her down to the bed. She fell back, fuzzy-headed and compliant, and she gave only a slight murmur as he lifted her legs to pull back the sheets and then covered her, letting them fall over her face. Her eyes were still open, and she could see the outline of his face through the white fabric.

His fingers brushed her cheek, so delicately she wasn't sure if she hadn't imagined it. Her cheek felt warm where his fingers had trailed across it.

He was chanting. The cadence of the language was foreign, and it reminded her of rolling hills, or crashing waves. She tried to catch the words, but they all seemed to tumble together, and that damn smell was everywhere, and her mind was going blank.

She tried to speak, but found she couldn't move. She felt her mouth, out of her control, open in a yawn so wide it hurt her cheeks and strained her jaw. Her head arched back, and her back bent, her chest rising up off the bed with the force of it. It felt like something was being pulled out of her, and, just as the thought crossed her mind, all the breath from her lungs seemed to rush out in a sudden _whoosh_.

She fell back onto the bed, and lay still. The sheets looked like a shroud, with only the faint outline of her nose visible. Only the faint rise and fall of her chest signified that she was still alive.

Loki fell silent, and began to wind the thread.

…

The room Darcy found herself in was full of that same sickly-sweet smell. She looked around, disoriented for a moment. It was full of people, many in SHIELD uniform, and some she recognised by their clothing. Thor was hard to miss. She could see his red cape from the opposite side of the room.

None of them had faces. There was nothing but blank, featureless skin where their faces should be. She backed away from the closest two to her, who seemed to be having a silent conversation with each other.

More and more people – still faceless – seemed to pour into the room around her, until they were all jostling one another. Someone's elbow dug into her stomach, and she let out a grunt of pain. The room was full of the sounds of footsteps and rustling clothing, but it was eerily devoid of voices.

The swarm of faceless people pressed on her, pushing her back. They were all walking towards her now, like a giant school of fish, moving under the orders of some unspoken command. She felt an inexplicable need to reach the far end of the room ahead of her, the direction from which all the people were coming.

She pressed through them, pressing past what was undoubtedly Jane, wearing the same flannel shirt and boots she always did. Janes faceless gaze seemed to sweep over her, and Darcy shivered. She slipped between two people, and hurried away. Slowly, Jane turned away, and began walking again with the crowd.

They were moving in unison, to the beat of some inaudible march. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of uncoordinated movement. She stopped, turning, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. There was a low horrible noise, like the growl of an angry lion, and it made her blood run cold. She caught sight of it again, just for a split second. It was moving against the crowd.

She was not alone.

The press of people was even tighter now. She had to shove her way through, elbowing people and squeezing between bodies, as her toes were stepped on over and over again. She pressed against the swell of people, bending forwards. A hand smacked her across the jaw, and it stung hard enough that she felt tears well up in her eyes. She was almost pushed to the ground.

"Loki!" she shrieked.

It broke the eerie, wordless noise like the sound of a bell on a clear day. She gave a final shove, and the crowd of people seemed to melt away silently.

She found herself standing in front of an altar, made of polished stone. It was streaked with dark red, running down the sides in long rivers, and staining the top. It looked terrifyingly like blood. Atop it lay the sceptre, glowing an eerie faint blue.

"Will you take it?" asked Loki, seeming to melt out of the shadows behind the altar. His skin seemed unnaturally pale, and it reflected the light of the sceptre, emphasising the dark shadows under his eyes and the hollowness of his cheeks. There was a strange spectral solemnity that seemed to fall upon the scene, like he was high priest of some long-forgotten rite that she was seeing enacted.

Which, she supposed, wasn't that far from the truth.

He was waiting for an answer.

"I already took it," she said.

He shook his head slightly.

"You think that this journey is reaching its end," he said. "You are only at the beginning."

In the blink of an eye, everything shifted. She found herself in the SHIELD boardroom, Nick Fury looking contemptuously down his nose at her. They were all there, the Avengers, and Agent Hill. And they were all dressed in suits.

Natasha, who had been sitting next to Fury, rose. It was clearly she, her face was unchanged, but her hair was cropped short and her clothing was masculine. But it was more than that. Natasha, despite being able to take down most men with her eyes closed using only her pinkie finger, walked and moved like a woman. This Natasha stood straight-backed, her shoulders were broader, and there was something indefinable in the way she carried herself that just screamed _man_.

"Should I be calling you Nathan, now?" Darcy asked.

"We'll take it from here," Natasha said. "We have called an end to the crisis."

"But Thanos –"

Fury cut Darcy off. "You're not needed, girl. We have reports to file. Ending a crisis is a lot of paperwork. But that's much too complicated for you. Run along."

"But he's still coming!" Darcy said. "How are you going to fight him?"

"We don't need to," said Natasha, blandly. "We've declared the crisis over."

"Over," repeated Tony Stark, who leaned forward and stamped an official-looking document with a large red stamp that read 'Complete'. He passed the paper to her and said, "see? We have the paperwork to prove it."

Her only warning was a faint whistling sound, before an explosion from outside seemed to rock the room, shattering the windows. A hail of glass rained down over Fury and the others, but they seemed to pay it no mind.

"He's here!" Darcy shrieked.

Natasha was on the phone. "No, there's no cause for alarm," she said. "The crisis has been averted."

Fury gave her a look of reproach. "We use our inside voices here," he said, in tones dripping with condescension. "If you have something to say, you must raise your hand."

"You need weapons! He's going to kill us all!"

"She's hysterical," said Steve, leaning over to whisper to Fury.

Fury nodded seriously. "Histrionic," he said, in agreement. "She needs a timeout."

"You aren't listening to me," Darcy said, slamming her hand down on the table. "Look around you."

"We don't have time for this, girl," said Fury. "We have papers to file, reports to write. We're very busy right now."

"Are you going to file the report now?" Tony asked.

Fury nodded pompously.

"We'd better come with you," said Steve, rising to his feet.

"I've got the stamp!" Tony chimed in. "If you need more things stamped."

As a group, they all began to leave, chatting amongst themselves.

"You need _weapons_!" Darcy yelled after them.

Fury looked over his shoulder at her. "Go play with your toys," he said, dismissively.

They were in a box in the corner. It was full of toy machetes, machine guns and pirate swords. She picked up each one in turn, and lay them out on the ground in a semi-circle around her.

Natasha came back into the room, and stopped, looking down at her. "Put your toys away," she said. "Take off that suit."

"I'm not wearing a suit," Darcy replied, frowning.

Natasha laughed, and straightened her tie. "We're all wearing suits, Darcy. Do you think we don't know?"

Darcy reached into the toybox and pulled out the sceptre from the very bottom.

"I told you to put them away," said Natasha. "Stop playing monster."

The sceptre went so cold it burned in her hand, but she couldn't let go. Her skin prickled, and seemed to crawl, like she was being pinched all over.

"I can't let go of it!" She thrust the sceptre towards Natasha. "Help me."

"You've made your choice, Monster, now you have to live with it." Natasha turned on her heel and left the room, shouting over her shoulder, "I would've helped you."

She felt things crawling under her skin, and it seemed to squeeze her tightly, like it didn't fit right. Slowly, it began to turn the same purple of Thanos' skin. She heard his laughter echoing around her, and with every laugh her skin seemed to pinch even harder.

_She_ was laughing. Her hands were Thanos' hands, gripping the sceptre. Her skin was not her own.

"Loki! _Loki_!" she cried out.

"You're lost, little Darcy," he said, gently. "You're wandering off the path."

"I don't understand."

"You're asking the wrong questions," he said.

Something was moving out of the corner of her eye again, flitting between the chairs and the tables, growing ever closer.

"Are you going to run?" asked Loki, sitting down on top of the lid of the toybox with an incongruous insouciance.

"What is it?" she asked, looking between him and the thing moving on the far side of the room.

"Ah!" said Loki in surprised delight, sitting up and looking at her in pleasure. "At last! The right questions."

He stood up, and pulled her to her feet. "You're up next," he said, plucking the sceptre out of her hand and giving her a hard shove.

She stumbled out onto a stage.

The lights blinded her for a moment, and she threw an arm up to cover her eyes. She heard a cough from the audience, and the sound of people shuffling in their seats. She stepped up to the microphone, and looked out into the darkness.

"Speak!" someone shouted from the audience.

"We're all waiting," someone else said. "All waiting on you."

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly bone dry. She grabbed the microphone in one shaking hand. "I don't have anything prepared," she said.

Someone in the audience began to boo loudly.

It – whatever it was that was following her – was moving in the dark. She could see it slinking up the aisle, creeping like a shadow. She squinted, and caught a flash of purple skin, and penetrating blue eyes.

_Thanos_, she thought.

"Alright," she said, into the microphone, and the room went deathly quiet. "Alright. Come out into the light where I can see you."

The thing that stepped out onto the stage was not Thanos. It has the same purple skin, the same horrible, leering smile. It bore the sceptre in its left hand.

But aside from these things, it was clearly, horribly _her_.

"So you've come to me at last," the other Darcy said, watching her with that same bared-teeth expression Thanos had used on her.

"Who are you?" Darcy asked.

"I am you," she replied, still grinning. "And not you."

"What do you want?"

The other Darcy made a 'tsk' noise of disapproval. "That," she said, "is for me to ask you. What do _you_ want?"

"At this point? To wake up," said Darcy. "I have had more than enough of this."

The other Darcy laughed, and it had approximately the same effect on Darcy as nails on a chalkboard. She held out the sceptre to Darcy. "Will you take it?"

"I've already answered that. This is getting redundant."

"You have picked it up," snapped the other Darcy. "But you are afraid to use it. You hold it, but do not wield it. Will you take it?"

Darcy stared at her in silence for a moment, and then slowly let her gaze drift down to the sceptre. It started up its familiar hum, and she almost closed her eyes reflexively in pleasure.

"It calls to you," the other Darcy murmured. "Will you answer? You could be great – defender of the Earth, conqueror of galaxies."

"I'm not a fighter," said Darcy.

"No," the other replied, with a glint of teeth in a lupine grin. "You're a weapon."

"And what, I end up like you?"

"You end up with power. You have already tasted it. You keep your Aesir like a dog on a short leash, and you yank the chain at every chance you get." The other Darcy stepped forward, the tip of the outstretched sceptre hovered centimetres away from Darcy's breast. "You've _enjoyed_it. He would give in, if you asked it of him. Any fantasies your mind can dream up, he could fulfil – and fulfil perfectly. You wouldn't even need to speak, he'd respond to your slightest command."

"I wouldn't do that to him," Darcy said.

"Why not? How is it different? You already control him, you order him."

The lights went up on the audience with a loud bang, and a hum as the bulbs warmed up. The audience seats were filled with a sea of faceless spectators, staring up at the two of them.

The other Darcy nudged her with the sceptre. "Drop the veil," she said. "Take the sceptre, and see what's behind the masks."

Slowly, with shaking hands, Darcy reached out and grasped the handle of the sceptre. A flicker of triumph passed across the other Darcy's face, before she schooled her expression. "Pick one," she said, gesturing to the audience, "any one, and look for yourself."

Darcy stared out into the audience, looking from faceless person to faceless person. She saw Jane sitting in the second row next to Thor. They were motionless, expectant. She felt their eyeless gaze on her as they waited.

In a swift, sudden movement she turned, thrusting the point of the sceptre towards the other Darcy. She blinked, falling to her knees as the sceptre pressed against her chest. The purple faded from her skin, and her unnaturally bright eyes dimmed, until she sat, crumpled forward, looking identical to Darcy. She sat very still on the floor at Darcy's feet.

Loki stepped out of the darkness behind her, and looked down at the other Darcy.

"You will take it, then?" he said.

She looked down at the sceptre, and then up at him. "Is this enough?" she asked.

He didn't answer, but she felt an unmistakable flash of pity and regret from him before he turned away. He clapped his hands once, and the sound seemed to echo as the stage around her vanished.

…

She woke up on her bed, the sheet still draped over her face, her mouth wide open as she breathed in air in a deep yawn. She pushed the sheet away from her face, and sat up.

Loki placed a spool of thread on the bed at her feet. It seemed to be glowing faintly gold, tendrils gleaming brightly as they rose like steam from it. She blinked, wondering if her mind was still hazy from whatever it was he'd just done to her, and looked around.

She could see it: energy ebbed and flowed like currents through the room. It wirled around Loki like he was a centre of gravity, diving towards him and rushing away again, glowing a deep green, and, above his head, two great gold bands of energy curved back like horns.

She stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Can you see?" he asked.

"_Yes_," she breathed out in astonishment. "Everything. I can see..."

He smiled, just the corners of his lips turning up. "That was quite the dream," he said. "You have a perilous mind."

She blinked. "I didn't do it on purpose," she said.

"No," said Loki. "Not even _you_ could be so conniving."

She frowned, uncertain whether she should take offense to that or not.

Loki sighed. "You did well," he said, after a long moment. "Better than I expected."

"Geez," said Darcy. "Don't drown me in compliments."

He chuckled lightly, and reached forward to rest his hand gently on the top of her head. "It is still early," he said, as her eyes fluttered closed. "Rest. We will speak again tomorrow. And then, we will have work to do."

She found she was too tired to even reply, and last thing she heard before she fell back asleep was the soft click of the light as Loki turned it off.


	10. Chapter 10

__**Notes: **Still not dead. A thousand sorries for the huge delay.

* * *

_"Is there no way out of the mind?"_  
– Sylvia Plath

…

Darcy had only been high once, on a reckless night of first year in college, after which she'd woken up on her dorm room floor next to her computer playing a video of a manakin bird doing the moonwalk on repeat, with a series of increasingly Texts From Last Night-worthy sent texts on her phone, six of which seemed to be documenting her breathing pattern to an unknown number somewhere in Santa Fe.

After that she'd pretty much sworn off shrooms.

This was worse. She spent more than an hour examining herself in the mirror, just watching the way the potential energy skipped across her skin, like skipping stones on water, dancing around her hands, her face. She saw it reach out to touch the sink, leaping like electricity off a Van de Graaff generator, between her hand and the porcelain. She could hear her heart thudding with excitement. It reminded her of the shrooms – this terrifying, vital sense of wonder at the sheer act of _living_.

God, she felt so high it was ridiculous. At least she wasn't glassy-eyed.

It took another hour to get clothes on and grab Loki to head off to the lab. The sense of pressing urgency she'd had seemed to have faded in favour of wonder, and a little terror, at this new 'gift' of hers. Her mind was still swimming with questions about the dream – what it had meant, why it had worked – but she found herself uncharacteristically shy of asking.

Loki, too, seemed out-of sorts. He didn't speak to her as they headed down the hall to the lab, and pressed ahead of her into the room.

The lab was unnecessarily cold. Loki didn't seem to mind, but it put her on edge and made her wish it was acceptable to wander around the SHIELD facilities in footie pyjamas.

"Come," Loki said, imperiously, waving her over to the Tesseract. "We shall test the extent of your abilities, and work up to the creation of a shield that will protect this world from invasion."

"What kind of tests?" Darcy asked, hugging herself nervously as she came towards him.

He gave her an annoyed look.

"There's no need to be snippy," she said, primly.

"Have you no sense of urgency?" Loki hissed. "It is remarkable that Thanos has not already come. We have wasted time enough already."

Darcy frowned. "Remarkable he hasn't come," she repeated. "What do you think he's waiting for?"

"I do not presume to know his mind," Loki replied.

"Why hasn't he come already, then?"

"I can only assume that he is waiting."

Darcy swallowed. "Waiting for what?"

Loki gave her a long penetrating look, and she had to fight the urge to cringe and turn away from him. "I'm not certain," he said at last. "But it concerns me greatly."

"Thank you Captain Ominous," she muttered. "Clear as mud."

Loki shot her a venomous look. The light from the Tesseract made his pale skin glow blue, and he looked otherworldly. Dark blue lines of magic seemed to run across his face, making patterns like war tattoos. For a moment the scene flickered, and she saw Loki, looking down at a blue box held in his hands, his skin a light, pale blue and traced with lines, like welts. She shivered, uncertain whether she was afraid or simply aroused by it.

She made a mental note to get her hands on a therapist when this was all over. A really, really good therapist.

Loki's lips thinned. "Can you not keep your mind focused for more than a moment?"

Darcy blinked. "Stay out of my head."

"I am not in your head," he replied acidly, "you are in _mine_. I cannot but weather the storm of ever-changing moods your mind besieges me with."

"Shut up," she snapped.

"My point precisely," he said snidely, pulling over a pile of pens. "We will begin with these."

"What precisely –"

"Listening," he said, in an uncanny approximation of Darcy's eleventh grade English teacher reaching the end of his tether. "Listening is_precisely_ what you must do."

She opened her mouth to say something sarcastic, but caught the look on his face and thought better of it.

"Now," Loki said sharply. "Magic is simply the manipulation of matter and energy. Can you see the pattern of energy surrounding that pen?"

Darcy straightened up, squaring her shoulders, and looked down. "Yes," she said, pulling the soft, orange glow of energy around the pen out from the background and focusing on it. It seemed to glow brighter under her attention.

"Focus," Loki said. "Gather the energy about it, collect it and hold on to it."

Darcy's brows furrowed as she concentrated. She reached out with her hand, bringing her fingers into a fist, and she _felt_ the thrum of power, just like the thrum of the sceptre. The orange glow seemed to wind tight around the pen, like she'd tightened the strings of a corset around it. It was wound tight like a spring, ready to go.

"Now you must split the veil," Loki said, his voice softer now. "Imagine the space below the pen can be divided, and pull it apart."

She leant forward unconsciously, picturing the table splitting apart like a curtain, but it wouldn't move.

Loki made a frustrated noise. "The table is simply matter and energy. It is mutable. You must stop seeing it as a table, and simply see it as an object you can manipulate."

"I'm _trying_." With a final burst of effort she imagined pulling the table apart, splitting down the middle underneath the pen.

The pen went flying of its own accord across the room and embedded itself firmly in the wall.

"_Whoa_."

"Well," Loki said drily. "When Thanos invades, at least we know you'll be able to fend him off with office supplies."

She glared at him, and he glared back in equal measure.

"This isn't going to work," he said at last, sitting down at the lab bench and running a hand over his face. "It is beyond your capabilities, even with the enhancement the sceptre has given you."

"We've barely tried," Darcy protested. "Let me try again."

"We do not have _time_," Loki snapped.

"Why are you being like this?"

Something in Loki seemed to break, and he stood up from the table with enough force that his chair clattered to the floor. "Because I am stuck in this worthless realm, chained to an idiot and prevented from any recourse to prevent my own demise by a weapon that should by all rights be _mine_."

It was like a dam had burst in his mind. She felt his caged fury, and, worse, his terror at the looming spectre of Thanos well up around her until she felt like she was drowning in it. She shoved back, _hard_.

"Stop it." The voice didn't even sound like hers – low, commanding and coldly inhuman. Loki's neck snapped back like he'd been slapped, and his features smoothed out until he was staring expressionlessly at her, his arms hanging loose at his sides.

The Tesseract hummed quietly between them, casting them both in a faint blue light. Loki was utterly motionless.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't mean…"

Like a marionette suddenly pulled up by its strings, Loki seemed to snap back into life. "We should try again," he said, as if the past few minutes simply hadn't happened.

"I…"

He blinked guilelessly at her. "Unless you require a moment?"

Cautiously she probed his mind. It seemed attentive and polite, though she could tell it was carefully blank. But there was something else simmering under the surface, and it made her nervous. Not for the first time she wondered just how close she was to the limit of how far Loki would be pushed.

"No," she said, stepping back towards the bench and pulling a pen towards her. "We'll try again."

He seemed to be eyeing her speculatively, like he was waiting for something.

"Begin," he said.

She focused again the pen, binding its energy around it tight until she could feel it almost stretching her own skin.

"Good," Loki said over her shoulder, his voice low and without its sharp edge. She jumped, and he placed a calming hand on her arm. "Focus," he said, almost seductively.

"Is it really necessary for you to stand _right there_?" she snapped, pulling her arm away.

"If I want to see what you're doing, yes," Loki said, blandly. "Is there a problem?"

"Yeah, you're breathing on my neck."

With a sigh that Darcy was _sure_ was exaggerated, he took a small step back. "Now may we focus?" he drawled.

"You keep your breathing out of my hair, and we'll be fine," she replied, wishing she weren't _quite_ so acutely aware of just how close he still was behind her. She could feel the air between them charged with anticipation, and the ghost of his breath on her neck, his fingers on her arm.

"Focus," Loki chided again, with a low chuckle.

"You're doing this on purpose!" She whirled around and glared at him. In a single, quick movement that seemed almost snake-like, he stepped forward, pushing her back into the lab bench behind them.

"And if I am?" he asked. "You forget, _I know your mind_. Do you think I cannot see, cannot _feel_ how you respond to me?" He leaned forward, his lips almost brushing her cheek, his nose grazing her hair. She could smell his armour, musty and leathery, and her eyes slipped closed. "Do you think I do not know what you wish for?"

Darcy turned her head away from him, and pushed as firmly as she could manage on his shoulder. She kept her tone as level as she could manage. "And to think, you were the one accusing _me_ of being mercurial. I don't think I've ever seen anyone go from cold to hot that fast."

He leered – actually, literally _leered_. "I am only beginning to get warmed up."

"Oh, _god_," Darcy said, stepping back. "This is not actually happening. You did _not_ seriously just make a terrible come on."

Loki seemed disconcerted for a second, but recovered himself almost immediately and stepped forward right into her personal space again. He placed his hands on either side of her on the desk, trapping her between his body and the lab bench.

"Is this not what you want?" he said in a low voice that sent involuntary shivers down her spine. The problem – the _real_ problem – was that he was right. This _was_ precisely what she wanted.

"We have no secrets, you and I," he said, one hand drifting slowly, sensuously up her arm. Her skin seemed to come alive with goosebumps, almost vibrating at his touch. "I know what you desire. I know without you even needing to ask."

"Why are you doing this?"

His eyes seemed impossibly bright, reflecting the light of the Tesseract as he looked down at her. His hand trailed up over her shoulder and cupped her cheek. The magic that radiated off her skin sparked where it brushed up against his, twining around itself, but never blending.

"Is it wrong to want to please you?"

She swallowed and tried very, very hard not to think dirty thoughts at that. Though, the way he was almost pressed right up against her, close enough that she could _definitely_ feel his body heat, wasn't helping.

"It's a bit suspect," she said.

He brushed his thumb across her cheek, and her skin tingled where he'd touched it. Almost instinctively she turned her face towards his hand. His long, thin fingers splayed out into her hair, his palm warm and dry against her cheek.

"We shouldn't –"

He closed the gap between them, pinning her to the bench with his body. The kiss itself was more awkward than she was expecting. Close-mouthed, and still, he seemed almost like he wasn't sure himself just what he was doing. She almost pulled back when suddenly his fingers tightened in her hair, holding her still and his tongue darted out to brush her lips.

Oh, it was such a terrible, _terrible_ idea. But he was _literally_ pressed up against her, smelling ridiculously, almost sexually masculine. She parted her lips, and he deepened the kiss. Every touch – his hand in her hair, the other which had found its way to her hip and was slowly, deliberately lifting the hem of her shirt up a bit to get at the skin of her lower back – felt positively electric. And she could feel his mind pressing against her, just as his body was.

She felt a little dizzy, overwhelmed with sensation, and, at the same time, not really minding at all. Loki's mind seemed to exude contentment and pleasure, and it wafted over her as his hands moved slowly over her skin. She pulled him towards her, clinging to him shamelessly, like she wanted to just drown in this _feeling_.

She almost didn't catch him in time. There was something sharp, hidden in the haze he'd woven, lurking at the back of his mind. She couldn't quite articulate what it _was_ precisely – it was a sliver of intent, like a vein of bright gold. Loki was trying to break free.

Fear, embarrassment and unmitigated fury washed over her like a cold shower, and she shoved him away from her, wiping her mouth.

"You…" She couldn't even speak, she was shaking with fury and adrenaline. "You _used_ me."

He seemed to actually snarl, his features contorting wildly with rage. "Is that any different than the way in which _you_ have used _me_? Or are offences only offences when they are against you?"

"They are not _remotely_ comparable."

Loki let out a loud bark of laughter.

"You would have _killed_ me," Darcy said. "I only took the sceptre from you because you were trying to _murder_ me. I haven't hurt you. I've treated you very well given the fact that you would have killed me if you'd had the chance."

"You have kept me enslaved."

"I am protecting my planet."

"I am protecting _myself_," he snapped back. "Your planet does not stand a chance." In the blink of an eye his body language shifted entirely. He seemed to shrink, the threatening set of his shoulders slipping away until he seemed almost scrawny by comparison. "Come with me," he said, almost begging. He reached out a hand. "I will take you with me. We'll go together."

"No!" Darcy batted his hand away. "Stop it."

He went still, his hand falling back to his side.

"If you want to live, you'd better stop trying to screw everything up and actually _help_ me."

"I _have_," Loki replied acidly. "I have done nothing but help you."

Darcy snorted loudly at that.

"I have given you magic. It is not my fault that you have not the capacity to wield it. I am not a miracle worker."

"I am not leaving the Earth to burn. You brought this monster here, you're going to help fix it." Darcy crossed her arms.

"Allow me access to your mind, then, and I will wield the Tesseract."

"Nice try."

Loki made a motion like he was going to reach out and strike her, but his body went rigid and he seemed to seize up in mid-act. "Then you condemn us all to death," he said hollowly.

"Loki," Darcy said. "I am ordering you to show me what to do. Show me how to build the shield – without entering my mind."

She felt the answering wave of obedience from Loki at the command, and a wave of what was unmistakably pleasure. It surged through her veins, calming her racing pulse and relaxing her muscles.

"Explain it to me," she ordered. Again, obedience. _Pleasure_. The Tesseract hummed loudly, and she felt the cold metal of the sceptre in her empty hand.

Loki rose wordlessly to obey.

…

Natasha was standing outside her door when she got back to her room that evening. She was leaning against the wall, looking for all the world like there was nothing odd about lurking outside someone's door until they got back.

"You've been in the lab," she said in lieu of a greeting.

"We're making progress," Darcy said, sounding tired even to her own ears. She opened the door to her room, and Natasha strode in ahead of her.

"Please, do, come in," Darcy said under her breath.

"What sort of progress?" Natasha asked.

"I can apparently use pens as a deadly weapon," Darcy replied, pulling off her sweater and tossing it on the bed, before sitting down to pull off her shoes. Natasha crossed her arms and leant against the far wall.

"I see," she said. "And you are aware that there are cameras in the lab?"

Darcy went very still, halfway through unlacing her sneakers.

"I take it you hadn't thought of that," Natasha said drily. "We monitor your work – for your own safety, as well as to address certain security concerns we have about allowing Loki to move around the facilities."

"You _monitor_…"

"So, I'm sure you can understand why the director has some concerns about your objectivity."

"My objectivity," Darcy repeated hollowly.

"We are also aware, of course," Natasha steamrollered on, seemingly oblivious to how incredibly, horribly awkward this whole conversation was, "that Loki spent the night in your room."

"It's not what you think," Darcy cut in quickly.

"You don't know what I think," Natasha replied. "However, given you went to bed apparently normal and woke up with telekinesis, I can only assume that whatever you two were doing was meant to facilitate your newfound abilities."

"Oh," Darcy said. "Well, then it is what you think. I think."

Natasha regarded her for a moment in silence, her lips pressed tightly together. "Director Fury wanted you put in custody," she said. "I have temporarily persuaded him not to." As Darcy opened her mouth to speak, Natasha held up a hand. "If you don't answer my questions honestly and completely, I will take you into custody myself."

"Do you have the situation under control?"

Natasha's stare seemed to go right through Darcy, making her feel like she was under a microscope. She forced herself to make eye contact and not squirm. "I do," she said. "The – what happened in the lab –" she felt herself blushing bright red, "was Loki trying to manipulate me. I've given him new orders. It won't happen again."

Natasha's eyes narrowed. "I've spoken to Thor about his brother," she said. "Loki has a reputation as an astute manipulator."

"I can see what's in his mind," Darcy said. "He can't lie to me."

"Successful manipulation is about profiling," Natasha continued. "It's about spotting which buttons to push, which tactics best meet the person's needs. There was a reason Loki chose that particular method to try and manipulate you."

Darcy looked down at her feet, one foot still in a half-done up sneaker, and felt her cheeks burn hot with embarrassment.

"Do not forget that while you may be able to read Loki, Loki can also read you."

"No," Darcy said softly. "I won't forget."

"You will have an armed escort everywhere you go. They'll stand guard outside and accompany you to the lab and Loki's cells. You will no longer work unsupervised."

Natasha cut off Darcy's protest with a curt, "be grateful you are working at all." She stood up straight and looked down, not entirely unkindly, at Darcy. "I am a realist. I believe that SHIELD is effective only because I have seen us be so in the past – but we have never faced a threat like this before, and it would be stupid to throw aside our best weapon. But if you can't control it, it is no longer _our_ best weapon. SHIELD is here to help you, not hinder you. We all want the same thing."

When Natasha opened the door, there were two armed agents standing on the other side.

Darcy wasn't convinced that she wasn't a prisoner after all.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes: **The shit is hitting the fan, guys! We're nearly at the end. Apologies to everyone who has reviewed recently – I've not been very good at replying of late, as real life has rather stuck its nose in. I do appreciate every review I receive, and it always brightens my day to hear what people think, so if you're one of the people I didn't get back to, thank you very, very much for reviewing, and I'm sorry I'm so rubbish.

* * *

"Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the darkness fall."  
- J. R. Tolkien, _Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring_

…

"You're still convinced we don't have a problem?" Clint asked, slipping nearly soundlessly up next to Natasha and leaning against the railing of the balcony atop Stark's, frankly, ludicrously over-compensatory, tower.

"No," Natasha said, in a low voice, looking out over the lights of New York. "But I'm not convinced we _do_, either."

"That's unusually non-committal of you."

Natasha gave a half-shrug. "It's an usual situation. You adapt."

"Unusual enough to warrant putting all our eggs in one untrained, brunette, 5'4'' basket?" Clint inquired.

Natasha glanced in his direction, one red eyebrow raised, before looking back out over the city. "I wouldn't say _all_ our eggs."

"Wouldn't you?"

Her lips thinned in annoyance, and she shifted her weight to her hip, angling herself slightly away from him.

"You've stood up for her a lot," Clint said, his tone carefully mild. Natasha didn't, however, miss the undercurrent of reproach.

"You don't think I should have?"

"Come on, Natasha. I know you and I don't exactly have the greatest track record for doing things precisely by the book, but when I go off script, I go off script with people I can trust. This girl? I haven't seen anything that reassuring yet."

"Then you haven't been looking," Natasha replied, curtly.

"Or you're looking too closely," said Clint. He sighed, resting his forearms against the railing. "You didn't have her in your mind."

He felt Natasha's gaze shift to him, then, and she watched him intently. He continued, "when the sceptre shifted power from Loki to her, I could sense her, in the back of my mind. There was something _dark_ there, Natasha."

"Dark how?" Natasha prompted.

"Like she didn't want to let go," Clint said, his voice low, and a chill seemed to settle in the air between them. "Like there was power at her fingertips, and she was reaching out to seize it, whatever the cost."

"But she hasn't done so," Natasha pointed out. "She has cooperated fully."

"She's snuck around with Loki, and now she's learning magic tricks," Clint replied, sharply.

"She's frightened."

"Yeah, you know what? So am I."

Natasha grimaced, and Clint carried on, "so are we all. Afraid of this army that's supposedly coming, and afraid of _her_. It's bad enough that there's an invasion force on the way, but now we have to second guess whether there'll be an invasion force from _inside_ the compound?"

"We won't let that happen."

"And even if it doesn't, what happens," Clint asked, "when we build this shield around the Earth they're supposedly working on? How long does it hold? Does she keep the sceptre to keep it running? Does she keep _Loki_?"

Natasha's mouth set in a firm, thin line.

"Come on, Natasha," Clint said. "You saw that kiss. It's bad enough that she's entirely untrained and she's wielding something that has the potential to be one of the most dangerous weapons we've ever encountered, but now she's sleeping with the enemy? There must be something." He was watching her face, trying to read her. "I _know_ you, Natasha. There has to be a reason why you're so convinced this isn't going to pear shaped fast, because from where I'm standing, that girl is a bomb waiting to go off, and when she does, she'll take us all with her."

"I won't let that happen," Natasha said resolutely. "She knows where her allegiance lies."

"Are you _sure_ of that, Natasha?" Clint asked. "Because none of the rest of us are."

"What other choice do we have?"

"We take the sceptre from her. Give it to Steve, would be my bet, but you know how Fury feels about outsiders. He'd have it assigned to one of us."

"Darcy's strength is that she _isn't_ one of us."

Clint frowned. "She's completely unprepared for this. I know what you think of training, but it's made you who you are – and good at what you do."

"She's completely unprepared to kill," Natasha replied. "That might make her a better candidate than any of us would ever be. Let her build the shield. Let us protect _her_."

"_Natasha_," Clint said softly.

"This conversation is over, Clint." She turned on her heel and walked, back ramrod straight, into the tower.

Clint sighed into the night air of the city, looking out over the cars driving by below, full of people going about their business, with absolutely no idea of how close they might be to death.

"This is some seriously fucked up shit," he said.

…

Darcy turned the sceptre over and over in her hands, watching the way the light played off its surface – a web of golds and blues. She slid her fingers slowly up the handle, almost caressingly, revelling in the cold, electric feel of the metal, which seemed to almost buzz against her skin.

It hummed with contentment, and it seemed to reverberate through her, calming her mind.

She took it with her to bed, cradling it like it was an oversized, metal teddy bear. She was past caring about the implications – even the thought of going without it made her skin crawl.

…

"I was wondering when I would be seeing you again," Loki said, softly, looking up from his book. "_Brother_." He placed a hard inflection on the word that caused Thor's hackles to rise.

"I am sorry that I have not visited more of late," said Thor.

"You had other things on your mind, I understand," replied Loki, smoothly. "The lovely Jane, for instance."

Thor gritted his teeth, but said nothing. "Come to watch me pace in my cage?"

"No," said Thor. "I take no pleasure in seeing you imprisoned, Loki."

"Then why _have_ you come?"

"It has been some time, and you have not yet made good on your claim," said Thor, taking a seat across from Loki, Mjölnir hanging loosely from his right hand.

Loki spread his hands out in a gesture meant to imitate guilelessness. "I recall making no claims."

Thor gave him a sharp look. "You know of what I speak, brother. Do not prevaricate with me. We are fortunate, indeed, that Thanos has not launched his assault already. And we have still no protection when he does."

Loki went very still, sitting back and resting his hands on his knees, like a stone Pharaoh. "What precisely do you mean to imply?"

"Confound it, Loki," snapped Thor. "Enough with your word games." Loki's face took on a bitter grimace at that, his thin lips curving downwards in an unpleasant scowl.

"I am not playing _games_, Thor."

"Stop this. You said you would help."

"And I have," Loki replied, curtly. "If this planet lies defenseless, it is no fault of _mine_."

Thor frowned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "What do you mean?"

"Your precious Midgardian _friend_," Loki nearly spat the word out, "has forbade me from using her as a conduit to access the magic of the Tesseract. With the sceptre, I cannot prevent a gate from opening. Without Darcy, I cannot use the sceptre. And she, being of the same, poor, mortal stock you seem to favour, cannot drum up sufficient power to manage the task herself, despite the fact that I have given her gifts well beyond her natural means."

"You have taught her magic?" Thor asked, in astonishment.

"Did you not know? I had thought the ever-watchful eyes of Director Fury would have kept you informed."

"I have heard other things of Darcy of late," said Thor, darkly. "That the two of you embraced one another –"

Loki cut him off with a snort. "_That_ is what Fury considers of great import? Midgardians may just be the worst gossips in all the Nine Realms – and I had not thought the Elves would ever lose claim to that particular title."

"Do not jest with me, Loki," Thor replied. "Is this some trick of yours?"

"Are you about to give me the shovel talk?" Loki inquired snidely.

"The... what?"

Loki looked almost as bemused as Thor, and he blinked and gave himself a little shake before continuing. "My vocabulary has, it seems, become more colourful of late from exposure to your pet Midgardians. It is of no matter – I doubt that you have the sense of humour to appreciate it."

"_Loki_," Thor ground out between his teeth in exasperation.

"No," said Loki. "I have no designs on, nor schemes against, Darcy."

"If you have neither, then why did you kiss her?"

Loki paused for a moment, considering, before he answered. "I was making a point."

Thor's lips thinned in displeasure, and he regarded Loki with an expression so reminiscent of his father that Loki was very nearly tempted to strike him. He'd been on the receiving end of that look more times than he could count, each one more bitter than the last – and the greatest of all had been as he hung over a bottomless void. He sneered back at Thor, willing him to say something – _anything_ – to set him off. Something Loki could use to turn the tables, and throw it back in Thor's face. He couldn't best Thor in battle, but he'd never needed to. His words were sharper than swords, where Thor was concerned, and he knew all the chinks in his armour.

There was a sudden wave of calm, like a soft faraway humming, that drowned his angry thoughts. He felt it wash over him, filling him with an unnatural lethargy as his mind slowed, and his thoughts became aimless and wandering. It was like being swaddled in cotton wool. He felt Darcy's presence in the back of his mind, whispering, almostly cloyingly, "play nice". Pretty words, for what was, at the end of the day, an order. But Darcy's youth, and her beauty, disguised a lot of ugly words.

"Well I hope the point was well made," Thor said. "For there is no time left to waste. We must take up arms, if there is to be no other defence. Can I count on you to fight by my side?"

Loki blinked owlishly at him through the fog the sceptre had imposed on his mind. Something that felt horribly, desperately like hope unfurled within him, and his voice was not nearly so steady as he would have liked when he said, "would you have me?"

"I would rather fight by your side, brother, than by the side of any other," Thor replied, reaching out to rest a hand on Loki's shoulder.

It felt unnaturally warm against Loki's skin, and he shrugged it off, thinking of a barren ice-filled world, and the lies his father had told him. Thor looked hurt for a moment, but he straightened and strode from the room without speaking, leaving Loki alone with his thoughts.

Loki began to think, not for the first time, that he was going mad. The net the sceptre had cast upon him lay heavy on his mind, and he had to focus to think. But if he tried hard enough, there were still some corners of his mind left untouched, and there he began to plot.

…

"Romanov," said Fury, inclining his head slightly and gesturing for her to take a seat. "Anything?"

"I don't think she's planning to move against us," Natasha replied, cooly. "At least not consciously. But I have some concerns about the amount of influence Loki is exerting on her, and the influence the sceptre might also be wielding."

Fury nodded, steepling his fingers and leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table.

"She's under a 24-7 watch," Natasha added.

"Which she can take down in five seconds if she learns to use that stick," Fury said, drily. "That doesn't make me feel much better."

The corner of Natasha's mouth quirked upwards, slightly. "My instincts say it won't come to that."

Fury scrutinised her for a long moment. She held her place, looking back at him, chin raised.

"Well," said Fury. "I've done worse than trust your instincts before."

Nodding, Natasha rose from the table.

"Oh, and Romanov," said Fury, looking up from the file folder that lay in front of him on the table. "If you're wrong about this, and we all die, you're fired."

…

The humming seemed to be growing louder. She could almost see it, as impossible as it seemed. Magic swirled around the sceptre, rushing madly back and forth between her hands and the staff, sparking like solar flares.

She closed her eyes, fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of the sceptre, its pleased, cloying hum seeming to vibrate her very bones. She felt Loki's anger flare up, a wave of bitterness and fury, and, in her mind, she saw Odin, lashing out at Loki, Odin holding his sons as they dangled over a precipice, and the cold, barren icescape of Jotunheim.

She sent Loki a message to settle down, and tried to drift off to sleep herself.

The sceptre flared to life, its blue gem lighting up and basking her room in a pale glow. She felt herself being dragged under, like she was being grasped by a thousand limbless hands, that crawled over her, pinching and prodding and dragging her ever downwards. She clawed fruitlessly around her, looking for purchase to pull herself back up.

She tumbled gracelessly to the ground in front of a pair of scuffed black boots. She was lying on hard rock, her cheek stinging from where it had struck the ground. Slowly, she forced herself to look up, and she saw Thanos grinning down at her.

With a yelp, she scuttled backwards, almost tripping over her own feet as she scrambled away. Thanos laughed, low and grating, and it sounded unnatural, and unbearable. She almost reached up and covered her ears.

"You have done marvellously well," he said. "Much better than I had intended. I think I will enjoy devouring your world whole after all. It is not so great a disappointment as I had thought."

"You won't," said Darcy. "We'll stop you."

"We?" Thanos echoed, mockingly. "You and your pet Jotun? The castaway false son of Odin? My dear, why do you think you're here?"

"What do you mean?" Darcy asked, sharply.

"It was he who pushed the sceptre into your hands and bade you _take it_," said Thanos, stepping forward and trapping her between himself and the rock. "Without that, I should never have been able to reach your world."

Darcy's heart all but sank through the floor. Betrayal was colder and more bitter than anything this barren wasteland had to offer. Loki had betrayed her – and, worse, he'd blindsided her and thrown her to the wolves. He'd teased her and taunted her and diverted her attention with kisses and reassurances and pretended to be a _friend_, and all the while he'd plotted to kill her, to kill everyone she'd ever known. "What are you talking about?"

"You are my ticket," said Thanos. "You're going to open the bridge for me."

"I would rather die," said Darcy, too afraid to be shocked over how much she completely and utterly meant that statement.

"In good time," said Thanos. "But first, I have instructions."

"You're insane if you think I'll do anything you say," Darcy shot back. "I won't help you destroy my world."

Thanos smiled, wide and malicious, and she could see his overly sharp canines glowing faintly in the pale blue light emitted by the sceptre. "Is that so?" he asked, reaching forward to grasp the sceptre.

Darcy shoved as hard as she could, driving the point into his eye. He let out a roar like a wounded bull, staggering backwards with his hand clutched over his face, before he stood up and rounded on her again. Thick, dark blood, so dark it almost looked black, was running down his face, and he looked wild with fury.

Darcy ran.

She could hear him behind her, scrambling over rocks and panting, a dull thudding roar that seemed to be gaining on her, but she was too afraid to look back. The rocks cut into her feet and hands, and she stumbled more than once, but she kept on going. The sceptre kept catching awkwardly on the rocks, and she nearly tripped on it – but she couldn't bring herself to let go of it. She clutched it so hard her knuckles turned white, and it seemed to whirl with distress – for her or Thanos, she couldn't tell. She rounded a corner and came face-to-face with a sheer cliff.

Thanos stood behind her, his face contorted into a furious snarl.

"You will pay for that," he hissed.

She brandished the sceptre in front of her like a sword. "Come any closer and I'll take out the other eye," she said.

"Do not play with toys you do not understand," he snarled, leaping forward in a single movement that was too quick for Darcy's eyes to track, and grabbing the arm which held the sceptre in one of his hands and her neck in the other, and he pressed her up against the cliff face. His long nails dug into her neck, and she began to see spots of black as he cut off her ability to breathe. The sceptre was practically screaming in agitation, a high pitched whine that seemed to cut through the fog of her oxygen deprivation.

Slowly, he loosened the pressure on her neck, keeping her pinned to the wall but allowing her to breathe. She coughed, sagging forwards, and Thanos laughed scornfully.

"When we meet on your world," he said, his breath hot and foul in her ear, "I will save you for last. I will burn everything you have ever known, everyone you have ever loved, and then, I will _rip you apart_."

He pried the sceptre from her hand, and raised the point to her chest. "You will return and behave normally. You will find the Tesseract. You will open the gate."

She felt her brain go numb, and her vision go blue, as her body seemed to sag forward. His words echoed soothingly in her mind, settling over her thoughts like a blanket. _Tesseract. Gate._

Thanos laughed again, dark and dangerous, and the world seemed to tilt around her.

…

"Where is she?" Natasha asked, checking in on the surveillance team.

"Headed to the lab," replied one of the techs. "We've got eyes on her, and the guards are with her."

"Is Loki with her?"

"No."

Natasha frowned. "Let me know if anything unusual happens."

…

The Tesseract seemed to radiate raw power. She could see it rising from the cube, like steam, curling and licking at the machinery of the lab. She looked deep into its heart, watching the ebb and flow of energy at its centre.

_Gate_, she thought. There was something important, something she had to do.

The universe unfurled, like the opening of a lotus flower. She drifted along twists and turns, dancing along the branches of Yggdrasil, and the vast spaces beyond, seeing nothing and everything at once. Galaxies were born and died, bursting into light and colour as she watched everything that had been, everything that could been, everything that might have been.

She was afraid, though she wasn't sure why. It felt like something was horribly wrong.

There was a path down into the depths, into the space where the tree would not grow.

_Open the gate_.

She forged ahead, pushing and bending space and time to make a path.

Slowly, Thanos stepped out onto the lab bench, and kicked the scanner attached to the Tesseract aside. It clattered loudly against the wall. The Other crawled out behind him, eyeing Darcy with obvious pleasure.

"Bring the others," said Thanos. "Send them all through."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes: **It's pretty obvious, from this, I think that I suck at writing fighting sequences. Sorry about that.

* * *

_"War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend."_  
– J. R. R. Tolkien, _The Lord of the Rings_

…

"We're breeched."

There was a rushing sound, like the sound of waves just beneath the surface of the water, that filled Natasha's mind. She felt, for a long, breathless moment, as if she might actually be drowning. _Breeched_.

"Seal the lab," she said, her own voice sounding odd and far away to her ears. "Get Fury on the line."

Fury was already on the line, and he was living up to his name. "What the hell is going on, Romanov?"

"It seems that a portal has been opened in the lab," Natasha said, sharply. "We've been breeched."

"_Masterly_ use of the passive voice," Fury replied, dryly. "Hill, are you there?"

"Here, sir," came the immediate reply.

"Get everything from Phase II. Distribute anything that'll work, and move the rest of it out."

"It's not been tested, sir."

"No time like the present," Fury replied. "If we don't test it now, we might not _get_ a second chance. And, Romanov? Get everyone suited up."

…

Thanos was watching her with a sort of predatorial, languid ease that frightened her more than outright threats. Behind him, the Other was directing troops out through the gate.

They poured out like ants, filling the room, kicking desks out of the way and drawing their weapons. But always, _always_ Thanos kept his gaze fixed firmly on her.

"Send the first wave out through the building. Kill everything that crosses your path," Thanos said. "But bring me the Jotun – alive, for now. I want to thank him _personally_."

The Other made a hissing noise of pleasure, and turned to Darcy. "And the girl?"

"I'm saving her for the end," said Thanos. "I want her to watch."

The Other laughed, a gravelly, hollow sound that filled Darcy with dread.

"Be brave, little mortal," Thanos said, mockingly. "Today is your hour of victory." A slow, awful smile spread across Thanos' face.

"Send out the first wave," he said, again.

…

"So, I suppose now isn't the best time to say I told you so," Tony said, as the faceplate of his Iron Man suit closed down with a snap and a whirring of gears. "But I told you so."

"We can discuss it at length when we've destroyed the invasion force," Steve replied, flatly. "Until then we need to work together."

"Yes, alright captain boy scout," said Tony. "Just keep in mind it's _my_ tower that's getting fucked six ways from Sunday."

"There are more important things than your _tower_ at stake," said Steve, incredulously.

"But none nearly so pretty."

"We need to keep them on this level," cut in Natasha, ignoring the argument. "We've shut down the elevators, and we've got teams in all the stairwells. If we can hold them here, they're cornered."

"I'm not so good in confined spaces," said Bruce, his voice soft, but underlined with sharp conviction.

"Can we trust you to man the main exit?" Clint asked. "If we can't keep them on this floor we need to keep them in the building."

"It's not going to be that simple," cut in Tony.

"We're making it that simple. Or we're dying in the attempt."

Clint's statement seemed to hang heavy in the air, and the group fell silent. It was Bruce who finally spoke.

"You can trust me at the exit," he said. "There's not much that'll get past the Other Guy."

"Just careful with the lobby – Pepper had it decorated with all sorts of ridiculously overpriced art that I'd like to keep."

"Stark!" Steve shouted, in exasperation. "Can we _focus_?" But Bruce gave him a small smile and a nod.

"We need to find a way to close that portal," said Clint.

"I'll find one," Natasha replied.

"How?" asked Steve.

"Loki," said Natasha, grimly.

"He's not going to help you," said Clint, frowning. "It's too late for that."

"I am not certain that Loki is entirely beyond hope," said Thor, who was looking uncharacteristically grave. "But I believe I should be the one to speak to him."

"We need you here," said Steve. "Your capabilities will go a long way."

"I'm certain I can _persuade_ him," Natasha added, evenly. "He'll answer my questions."

Most of the group looked dubious, but Clint seemed to be assessing her, scrutinising her face. Whatever it was he saw, it seemed to satisfy him, as he pressed his lips together tightly and nodded once.

"Right. So, until we can get the portal closed, we'll have to do what we can to hold them off," he said.

"You'll be the most use up high," said Steve, looking at Clint. "Take the west stairwell – you should be able to use the landing to get a clear line of sight to the door, keep them from getting through. We're using that stairwell for personell evacuation, so we'll have to keep it unbarricaded until we've got everyone out."

Clint nodded, snapping his bow to extend it out to its full length.

"Tony, take the east stairwell. Seal the door, do whatever you can to keep them from getting through," Steve carried on. "Banner, you're at the front entrance. I'll man the elevator in case they come that way. Romanov, you do whatever you need to with Loki and get that portal shut."

"Thor," said Steve, turning towards him. "Do what you can to stem the tide."

Thor picked up Mjolnir and raised it. "To glorious battle," he said.

"To making it out of this alive," added Tony, sardonically.

…

The evacuation was still in-progress when Clint arrived, setting up a position with a clear line of sight to the door. A line of armed Shield personell was escorting people out as efficiently as possible – which involved a lot more pushing and screaming than Clint would have liked, but that was the nature of a crisis.

Beyond the door he could hear the sounds of fighting – the sharp pop of gunfire, echoing down the hall like an tattoo of a war drum. He could hear the strange, whizzing electric sound of Mjolnir, and the crash of it as Thor swung it and decimated the Chitauri troops.

He could hear high, inhuman shrieks echoing down the corridor – reverberating together like some, single, great beast, slouching slowly towards him. He could hear Steve and Thor shouting.

And above the bedlam, came Steve's loud cry, "fall back! Fall back!"

He notched an arrow, pulling his bow taut and resting the fletchings alongside his cheek in the familiar pose. They were coming.

…

Loki was standing at the door of his cell when Natasha entered. His head snapped up, and he looked at her, his eyes narrowed and piercing.

"Let me out," he snapped.

"I don't think so," Natasha replied, evenly. "Not now."

"You _fool_," Loki spat. "They have come, they will _keep_ coming. They will pour through that portal like a great wave, and it will drench your world in blood. It is _over_. Let me go."

"So you can run away?" Natasha asked.

"I cannot," said Loki, heavily, sagging back and sitting down, his elbows resting on his knees and his head bent. "I am bound. I cannot leave. At least permit me to die on my feet."

"I would have thought you would prefer to not die at all," Natasha said, evenly.

Loki's eyes flashed, furiously. "Do not toy with me, _woman_."

"I am giving you an out, Loki," Natasha said, stepping forwards. "Can you close the portal?"

"No," said Loki. "But Darcy might be able."

Natasha looked at him for a long moment, and he held her gaze. He was _afraid_, and that very nearly terrified her. He'd been so arrogant, so haughty – if Thanos was what Loki feared, then she expected they were in a lot more trouble than they'd ever been before. What would it take, she wondered, to have his mere presence bring Loki to his knees?

"What does she need to do?"

"Take me to her," said Loki. "And I can guide her."

"Or kill her," Natasha said.

"I can't," Loki replied, running a hand through his dishevelled hair in frustration. "Even if I wished to, I couldn't. I am forbidden from harming her – from harming any of you."

"Then how was the portal opened?" Natasha asked. "Do you think we're stupid? That we wouldn't realise what you've done?"

"I have done all that has been asked of me, and more," said Loki.

"Oh, yes," Natasha drawled, stepping closer to the door of his cell. "I have seen precisely how much _more_ you have done. Apparently a fondness for mortal girls runs in your family."

Loki's face went nearly puce with rage, his lips drew back to bare his teeth, and he was nearly incandescent with fury. "You know not of what you speak."

"I know what I have seen. Tell me, did you kiss her just to convince her to open the portal for you, or did you enjoy it too?"

Loki went very, very still, the colour draining from his face. "_Darcy_ opened the portal? You are certain?"

"You expect me to believe you don't know?"

"Why?" Loki asked, sharply.

Natasha frowned, stepping back. "For you. She opened it for you."

"Do not be a fool," Loki snapped. "I gain nothing from that portal opening now."

Natasha looked at him, crossing her arms. "Because you're bound. Because you can't leave. And because he'll kill you for letting the sceptre fall into our hands."

Loki sneered, and nodded. "Well done," he said.

"We have an expression, on Earth," Natasha said. "'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.'"

"Let me out," said Loki, again.

…

"Guys, a little help would be appreciated!" shouted Tony over the intercom.

"Repulsor cannons at twenty percent power," said JARVIS, calmly in his ear.

"Yes, yes, shut up."

He fired off another blast into the face of an oncoming Chitauri, and then crumpled forwards as he was hit by a blast from behind. "Well that was just _rude_," said Tony, turning around and firing off a blast behind him.

All of a sudden, a large group of Chitauri went flying back into the wall beside him. He barely had time to put his arms up, before the limp body of a Chitauri warrior crashed down on top of him. He shoved it off in time to see Thor come around the corner, Mjolnir in hand.

"Watch where you're swinging that thing," Tony said, rising to his feet.

"Apologies," said Thor. "I am afraid there are quite a few more behind me."

They could hear them, booted feet thumping and voices shrieking as the came down the corridor. Tony gave his head a little shake, and threw his shoulders back.

"I'll take the first hundred on the left, you take the first hundred on the right," he said. "There should be plenty to keep us busy."

Thor threw him a wide, reckless smile. "Indeed. This will be a battle worthy of great song, when it is done."

"I'll settle for a battle worthy of great booze, if it's all the same to you," said Tony.

Thor's answering laugh was drowned out by the sound of the oncoming Chitauri fighters.

…

"You stay with me, you understand?" Natasha said, unlocking Loki's door.

"Where is Darcy?" Loki asked, ignoring her question.

"In the lab, with Thanos."

Loki turned and looked down his nose at her. Before rolling his eyes. "Of course she is. This is hopeless. This whole plan is hopeless."

"What happened to dying on your feet?" Natasha asked snidely, checking to ensure the hallway was clear.

"I have not Thor's thirst for vain glory."

"Yeah, well, me neither," said Natasha. "Bravery is what matters. Bravery is what happens when nobody's looking. Bravery happens in dark corners, and broken homes."

"I am not brave," said Loki, quietly. "I think you misjudge me."

"I don't care," Natasha replied. "I'm not counting on you to be brave. I'm counting on you to save your own skin. Close the portal, and live. Fail to close it, and we all die. It's that simple."

"And leave the bravery to you?" Loki asked, sardonically.

"If you don't close this portal, there won't be any glory – there won't be anyone alive left to do the glorifying. Not you, not Darcy, and not your brother."

They rounded another corner. "Stairwell," said Natasha, gesturing towards the door. "Let's go."

…

"Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me," said Clint.

Natasha looked up at him and scowled, and Loki simply smirked.

"Ah, Agent Barton," he said, smugly. "I _have_ missed you."

Clint had an arrow notched and pointed at Loki's face in seconds. "Say that again," he said.

"Stop it, both of you," Natasha said. "We're going through."

"You're taking _him_ in there?"

"I need him to close the portal," Natasha replied.

"What if he turns around and makes it worse?" Clint asked, incredulously.

"Then I expect you won't have very long to worry about it," said Loki, still smirking.

"I trust his desire to save his own sorry skin," said Natasha. "Making it worse for us, at the moment, also means making things worse for _him_."

Clint scowled down at Loki. "Big leader not happy now you lost the magic stick?"

Loki's sneer contorted into a furious scowl, and Clint let out a bark of laughter. "Thought so."

"We're going in," Natasha said, again. "Cover us."

"It's bedlam in there, Tash."

Natasha grinned up at him. "Just like Budapest."

Clint looked down at her incredulously. "You and I remember Budapest very differently."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Charming," he said. "Shall we?"

Clint aimed at the doorway. "I've got you covered until you go through that door. After that, you're on your own."

Natasha nodded and raised her gun, and Loki pulled out his daggers, twirling them in his hands. Then, they burst through the door and into the fray.

…

"Do you hear that?" Thanos asked, stepping towards her. Darcy took a nervous step back, and Thanos grinned cruelly. "That is the sound of Midgard falling. The last cries of a dying people." He closed his eyes and lifted his head, still smiling. "_Music_," he said.

Darcy raised the sceptre until the point was aimed straight at his chest. He laughed.

"Do you think I am fool enough to allow you to attempt that trick twice?" he asked. Then, he moved – faster than Darcy's eyes could follow, and plucked the sceptre from her hand and pinned her to the desk in a single motion. "Stay still and silent," he said. "You won't want to miss this."

He released her with a shove, sending her stumbling backwards to the floor. He twirled the sceptre around in his hands, and she felt it – felt it calling to him. She felt empty, like he'd ripped it from her, and left a gaping hole where it ought to have been.

And above all she felt furious.

She wanted it back. She wanted him dead.

She saw the swirl of magical energy around him, a dark purple-black that seemed to eat up the light in the room. She thought of Loki's lectures, about manipulation of energy.

She crawled backwards, watching him, and began to think.

…

"Thor!" shouted Tony. "Power me up."

Thor looked at him quizzically, before turning around to bash one of the Chitauri against the wall with Mjolnir.

"Zap me."

"I will injure you," Thor said.

"Need a recharge. Your hammer did it last time."

Thor gave an odd sort of shrug, before reaching up into the air with Mjolnir. The lights around them flickered as energy gathered around the hammer, bright and white hot, before Thor lowered his arm and blasted Tony with it. He fell back against the wall with a thunk, and Thor spun around and threw Mjolnir out like a boomarang, taking out a line of approaching Chitauri.

Tony sat up, shaking his head. "Power levels at 200%," said JARVIS.

"Well Hallelujah."

There were approaching footsteps from behind, and he turned. Natasha came running up, gun out and at the ready, with Loki close on her heels.

"Brother!" exclaimed Thor, in pleased surprise. "Excellent. We fight side by side once more."

Loki looked as if he'd swallowed a lemon, but said nothing.

"We have to get into the lab," Natasha said.

Tony looked from Loki to her and back again. "Oh, yes, right. Well that'll be dead simple."

"Good, because time is a bit of the essence."

Tony made an exasperated noise. "They just keep pouring out, no matter how many of them we take down. And now you want to go through them? It's suicide."

"I agree," said Loki. "If the portal is open, all the hosts of the Chitauri's forces are pouring through. The tide cannot be stemmed."

"We will do so," said Thor, seriously. "The line will not be broken."

"It is a question of time," snapped Loki. "Mjolnir does not make you invicible, and it is a question of numbers. We are vastly outnumbered."

"So we get to the lab and shut the portal," said Natasha, shooting over Tony's shoulder.

"We can't get to the lab," said Tony. "We have to go through _this_."

Thor looked back at Loki and Natasha, frowning, and then forwards.

"No," said Loki, catching on to Thor's plan before anyone else. "No, no, no. You'll bring down the building."

Tony let out a bleat of alarm at that, but was busy shooting repulsor blasts.

"We can clear the way, and you can slip through," said Thor. "Tony Stark, are you with me?"

"Oh, god fucking dammit," said Tony.

Thor grinned. "To a red dawn, and a glorious end." He raised Mjolnir high up above his head, and let out a loud, inarticulate cry. Loki crouched, his knives drawn and glowing faintly green with magic. Tony raised his hands, palms out and repulsors at the ready.

"See you suckers at the lab," he said.

And, as one, they rushed the Chitarui lines, beating them back.

Then it was a maelstrom. A whirlwind of the sickening crunch of metal against bone, of hot blood and adrenaline, the sharp crack of bullets and the sharper smell of gunpowder, and the weighty metal sound of Mjolnir, like a pendulum. They were surrounded, nearly drowning in the bloody tide and shrieks of the Chitauri forces.

And still they went forwards, carving a path down the hall.

"Lab door!" shouted Tony above the crowd. "_Left!_."

Natasha saw Loki duck out underneath one of the Chitauri's weapons, spinning around to stab him in the neck in one smooth, efficient and deadly move. She followed, shooting a path to the door.

"We'll hold them off," said Tony, breathlessly.

Thor, his armour dirty and his face bloodspattered, swung Mjolnir in a wide arc, clearing the doorway. "Go," he said.

Loki and Natasha stumbled into the room.

…

Thanos' attention snapped to the doorway.

"Well, if it isn't my favourite of Odin's cast-offs," said Thanos. "I see you have spared me the trouble of fetching you."

Loki snarled, and Natasha levelled her gun at Thanos' head. Thanos curled his hand tight around the sceptre, gathering its energy and threw a blast straight at Natasha. Loki grabbed her, and they were both sent flying across the room, crashing into the wall with a resounding thunk.

Darcy shrieked.

Loki stirred, groaning, and rolled over, leaning over Natasha and looking down at her.

Thanos, watched him carefully. "The time has come, Loki, son of _Laufey_, to affirm your allegiance." He spun the sceptre around in his hand, examining the sharp, curved tip. "Since it is you I have to thank for my presence here, I am willing to be merciful. You were not so usless as I had thought."

Loki's back was still turned, and he sat, utterly stiff, still looking down at Natasha.

"What would you have me do?" he asked, at last.

"Kill her, join me, and I will see to it that you are spared."

"And Midgard?" Loki asked.

"What is left of it, is yours," Thanos replied, spreading his hands wide in a magnanimous gesture.

Loki turned, looking at Darcy. His eyes were carefully blank and his expression inscrutable. Then, very deliberately, he looked from her to the sceptre and back again.

Darcy swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest, and she gave a slight, imperceptible nod.

"I want the Tesseract," said Loki.

Thanos laughed, a loud, barking guffaw. "I think not," he said.

"Midgard, then, and a promise that I will be left alone, when this is done."

Thanos considered for a moment, and then smiled unpleasantly. "Agreed," he said.

Loki looked back at Darcy, and then down at Natasha. Darcy felt her heart stop. He had _agreed_. He had agreed to _kill_ Natasha. He had agreed to take Midgard.

But he had also, implicitly, told her to get the sceptre. Was it a trap? She wondered whether he wanted her to take it because it would save them, or because he'd just rather _she_ had it than Thanos.

_Traitor_. Either way.

Loki stared down at Natasha for a long moment, before he reached out and covered her face with his long, pale fingers. There was a flash of green light, and he pulled his hand back, and stood. Natasha's eyes were open, and unseeing, looking up at the ceiling.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes**: A huge thank-you to the ever-lovely Talulabelle whose mad last-minute beta skills made this presentable. :) The next chapter will be the last, everyone! We're almost done.

* * *

_"It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are."_  
- e.e. cummings  
…

Steve stood out in the crowd of Chitauri like an elephant at a mouse family reunion. It was a damn good thing too, given Thor and Tony had reached the point of exhaustion, and were throwing out blasts indiscriminately. However, it was hard to miss the bright red and blue of Steve's shield, as it came crashing through the cluster of Chitauri, sending them toppling into one another like bowling pins. Steve himself had two, large guns – so large they almost looked like bazookas – strung over his shoulder, and his face was smeared with dust and blood.

"So glad you could join us," Tony said, wearily.

Steve looked grim. "They got into the elevator shafts. Dr. Banner met them downstairs. That's stopped them in their tracks – for the moment, at least." He pulled one of the guns off his shoulder. "Prototype," he said. "Thought you might want one."

Tony's expression was hidden behind his mask, but Steve seemed to read it nonetheless. He gave a grim smile and said, "I'm all for principles, but in this case, they're damn useful and we could use all the help we can get. If there's a planet left when we're done with this, I'm torching the lot of them, but until then…"

"Smart boy," said Tony, lifting the gun up to his shoulder and taking aim. "I always liked a good toy. It's not one of mine, but it certainly looks like it packs a punch."

"Oh, it packs a punch, alright," said Steve. "I nearly took out your lobby on the first shot."

Tony scowled. "Do you have any idea what Pepper is going to do to me after all this is through? She spent _weeks_ getting this place decorated and up to specs."

"I'm sure she'll just be pleased to be alive," Steve said, wryly. "And if not – you're on your own."

Behind his mask, Tony grinned. "Just the way I like it."

"Shall we put this weapon to the test?" Thor asked, as another, interminable, wave of Chitauri came running around the corner towards them.

"I like the way you think, big guy," said Tony, taking aim.

"It's got a hell of a recoil –" Steve managed to say, before Tony took a shot. A column of bright orange flame shot out down the hallway, frying the approaching Chitauri.

"Strike that," said Tony. "Burn all of them except this one. I need one of these for my lab."

Thor chuckled. "May we live on to give you the opportunity," he said, raising Mjolnir with renewed enthusiasm. "Until then, we fight."

Steve drew himself up to his full height, adjusting his grip on his shield. "Until then, we fight," he agreed. "I checked in with Clint – any word from Natasha?"

Tony jerked his head behind him. "She took Loki in there to get the girl and shut the portal."

Steve looked between Tony and the door and back again. "Portal's not shut," he said.

"No," said Tony, grimly. "No it isn't."

…

Thanos was watching Loki with a wary look of mixed pleasure and what Darcy thought might be pride. It turned her stomach. Natasha's body looked small and fragile, her hand lying palm-up on the ground, fingers curled inwards softly, stretched out towards Darcy. It was odd to associate the word 'fragile' with Natasha Romanov – but Darcy couldn't help but think that, lying there staring lifelessly up at nothing, she looked soft and childlike.

Darcy wondered if she'd look that way too, when Thanos finally got around to killing her. Or, whether Loki'd get there first.

Whatever Loki was thinking, it didn't register on his face. He looked calm and nonchalant as he walked past Darcy to stand beside Thanos. He leant up against the side of the bench, crossing his arms and resting his hip against the tabletop.

"Are you keeping this one on as a pet?" he asked, nodding his head towards Darcy. She stared back at him, unblinking, trying to figure out precisely what and whose game he was playing. It was looking more and more like it wasn't _hers_.

Thanos chuckled. "Saving the best for last," he said. "I should like to show my gratitude in full, once her world is aflame."

Loki scowled. "Do leave at least some of it intact. Our deal, such as it is, entitles me to it when you are finished."

"When I am finished," Thanos agreed. He was looking down at Darcy, a predatorial and anticipatory gleam in his pale eyes. She could see his fingers twitch and tighten reflexively around the handle of the sceptre, and it gave out a faint pulse of blue light.

Darcy could see Loki's magic colliding with the edges of Thanos'. It sparked green and fizzled where it came into contact with the dark-purple whorls of energy she could see coming off of Thanos' skin, and tangling themselves, almost lovingly, around the sceptre in his hands.

Loki was up to something – she could see his magic taking form, clustering in front of him, and then receding in an odd sort of ebb and flow, like he was winding up for a strike and then thinking better of it over and over again. If Thanos had noticed, he certainly didn't seem to care.

"And what of the warriors here?" Loki asked, his voice carefully controlled and laced with forced insouciance. "Of my – of Thor?"

Thanos turned to him. "Having second thoughts?"

"Hardly," said Loki, scowling darkly. "However, there are some tasks I would rather take care of myself."

Thanos seemed to be appraising him, his lips compressed as he looked Loki up and down. "And what would you have me do?"

A slow, cruel smile slid across Loki's face. It was an expression that reminded Darcy of the way he'd looked when they'd first met – like a wild animal that had been backed into a corner. "Let me deal with Thor," he said, venomously. "Allow me to destroy him _personally_."

Thanos sneered. "And let you go?" In a sudden, sharp motion he reached out and clasped Loki around the neck, pressing him against the desk so that his spine arched back like a bow. Loki's thin, pale fingers scrabbled against Thanos' hand, but he wasn't able to pry him off.

"Do you think me a fool, son of _Laufey_?" Thanos sneered. "That I should let you go – and you would do my bidding? Do you think I know nothing of your name, of your reputation, _liesmith_? You will not lie to me."

"I have killed for you," Loki coughed out. Again, Darcy saw his magic flare up, pressing against Thanos and then recede again.

She looked down at her own hands, and saw the whirl of latent energy there. And suddenly it _clicked_.

Thanos was laughing. "So you have. But what is one mortal when your life is on the line? We both know what you are, Loki. You are a _coward_, who would stop at nothing to save your own skin."

Darcy focused on the energy growing between her hands, curling around itself and growing tighter and tighter into a ball, white-hot with rage. She thought about Natasha, lying dead beside her, who had _trusted_ her, and who she had betrayed. She thought about home, about all the wonder of the world being snuffed out by the Chitauri. And then, flickering in front of her eyes with such realism that she felt, for a moment, like she'd been thrown back in, she remembered Thanos entering her mind. She remembered him taunting her with what he found there, forcing her to go through her fantasies. She remembered the mixed rush of pleasure and revulsion, as Thanos stood there watching. She remembered how he'd laughed, and how Loki had _known_ what she'd secretly wanted, and, like Thanos, had used it against her.

Rage burnt through her, bright and all-consuming, and it focused in the small space between her hands. She looked up.

Thanos' back was to her, as he leant over Loki, pressing his thick, purple hand into Loki's neck. But Loki – Loki was staring straight at her, his gaze sharp and piercing. She snarled, drew back her hands, and flung her magic outwards with an inarticulate yell, straight towards them both.

The blast hit Thanos straight in the middle of his back. He staggered forwards, leaning over the bench, and went eerily still for a long moment. Then, his legs seemed to give out, and he fell down to the floor. Loki sprung back, wrenching himself out of Thanos' grip and sputtering. Darcy saw his eyes flick to the sceptre, lying on the ground in Thanos' limp hand, and guessed what he was about to do.

She jumped up, flinging herself forwards and tackled Loki, grabbing him from behind and shoving him aside, reaching for the sceptre. He grabbed her arm, pulling her backwards to his chest and then turning to roll her aside. She grabbed his free arm, and clung to it, trying to push him away from the sceptre, but he was much stronger.

She reached out and kicked it away, and it went skittering across the floor to hit the wall on the far side of the room. Then she jabbed her elbow as hard as she could into Loki's chest.

He let out a loud 'oof', and it was enough for her to wiggle out of his grasp and make a run for it across the room. She stumbled forwards as he tripped her, coming up from behind, and she fell to her knees – but she reached out and managed to get her fingers closed around the handle of the sceptre. She splayed herself out forward, and rolled over, bringing the sceptre up over her head to point it straight at Loki.

He was kneeling over her, panting, and nearly white with fury, but he stopped. The point of the sceptre hovered directly in front of his nose. She could see angry red blotches covering his neck where Thanos' hands had been, and she could see the hurried pulse of his heart there also. She'd never seen him so angry.

"Get off me," she said, shakily.

With slow, jerking movements, like he was fighting against himself, Loki stood. His hands were clenched into fists so tight she wouldn't have been surprised if his fingernails had been cutting into his palms.

She got to her feet, shaking so violently she could barely stand. Loki was watching her, his gaze uncomfortably intent, and she could feel him again, settling like a familiar weight, pressing against her mind. It was an odd persistent twinge, like a nagging headache, she could feel his rage battering against the confines of her own thoughts.

"What happens now?" she asked.

Loki seemed to spring into action, like he'd been released from some sort of confinement. He closed the distance between them in a single step, and Darcy found herself stepping backwards instinctively.

"What have you done?" Loki hissed, taking her by the shoulders and gripping her so tightly she could swear she felt his fingers press against her bones. She struggled, kicking out at him and pushing on his chest. Mustering up as much control as she could, she commanded, "_let go_."

Loki sprang back again as if he'd been burnt.

"You tricked me. You killed Natasha. You were never helping me at all," Darcy said, her voice choked with a mixture of betrayal and anger. She stepped forward, the sceptre raised like a spear between them. Loki stepped back, looking, for the first time since she'd seen him, genuinely frightened. "You _lied_. How did you do it?"

All of her anger, hopelessness, betrayal and terror seemed to come together at once, and she gripped the sceptre tightly and turned towards Loki's mind. "_Show me_," she commanded, and it seemed as though she rushed forward, flooding into Loki's mind and tearing it apart like tissue paper.

Loki's thoughts seemed to swirl around her, caught in a maelstrom. She saw snippets of memory as they each floated past. She saw Loki laughing with Thor, Asgard in the sunlight, his mother pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, her face looking up at him.

She filtered through them all, peering in corners and then tossing them aside when she didn't find what she wanted. She ripped it apart, overturning everything and pulling secrets out of hidden drawers. She could hear Loki screaming, muffled in the background.

She ignored it.

At last she came across what she was looking for. She saw a flicker of red hair, and grabbed hold of it, pulling herself into the memory. She saw Natasha striking a deal with Loki – and Loki's insistence that he hadn't opened the portal. She pressed at it, making him repeat it over and over as she replayed through the memory and pulled the strands of it apart, to see what lay underneath. She pushed herself into it – into his thoughts as he'd spoken, until she'd almost crawled into his skin, and taken his place.

For a moment, she had become Loki. She heard herself speak to Natasha, and felt… _Terror_. She felt unmitigated terror. Memories flashed through her mind – Loki rescuing her from Thanos, his tutelage, Thanos, cruel and sadistic, torturing Loki and pressing the sceptre into his hands before sending him to Earth. She felt terror for herself, for Loki, and for _her_. Loki had felt terror for _her_. And terror _of_ her.

The pieces were falling into place, but she felt like she still had no idea what the puzzle was.

She moved on, pushing that memory aside and delving deeper. She saw Loki, crouched over Natasha's prone body. She felt him press a hand gently to her face, and saw her eyes snap open. He pressed down, covering her mouth, and whispered, "lie still."

She felt the warring pull of respect and self-preservation within Loki. She could see the way his mind worked, puzzling over the situation, examining each piece in light of how it might best serve his ends. But Natasha – Natasha needed to die for him to live. But, she felt acutely, he didn't _want_ to kill her.

Then she saw Loki cover Natasha's eyes, and mutter a spell. When he drew his hand back, her eyes were open. But _not_ dead.

Darcy stepped back, and Loki sagged, boneless, to the floor and lay still. Darcy was panting. She felt oddly hollow, like everything of substance in her had been scooped out, and she was nothing more than an echo of herself.

"Fix her," Darcy said, her voice low and raspy.

Loki brought his hands up under his shoulders, and raised himself to all fours, his head hanging low. He looked up at her, his hair wild and stringy around his face. "What have you done?" he asked again.

She shivered, looking down at him – brought down to his knees. She could see him shaking with the exertion of even holding himself there, and he as so pale as to be nearly translucent.

She opened her mouth to speak, but froze suddenly when she caught motion out of the corner of her eye. Another group of Chitauri had come through the portal, and Thanos was rising to his feet in the middle of them, looking furiously at her.

Loki scrabbled away, crawling – any pretense at dignity abandoned. Darcy didn't have time to watch him go. She clutched the sceptre to her chest, and crouched slightly, preparing to fight, and (probably) die trying.

Thanos shoved the Chitauri aside and stood, his shoulders squared. "Well, well," he said. "It would appear that Loki has taught you some tricks after all." His eyes scanned the room for Loki, but wherever he'd crawled off to, it wasn't visible from where they were standing.

"He's taught me enough to take you down," said Darcy, with much more bravado than she actually felt. Thanos, however, seemed to be genuinely considering this possibility.

He seemed to make up his mind, he stepped forwards, his fingers curling into wide, menacing fists. The Chitauri flanked him, their guns pointed straight at her.

She held the sceptre up as best she could, and crouched slightly, preparing to spring towards them. Suddenly, from the far side of the room, there came the unmistakable, loud crack of a gunshot, and the Chitauri closest to her dropped instantly like a sack of bricks. There was a second and third shot, and two more dropped dead.

Natasha was standing, guns out and very, _very_ much alive, on the far side of the room. Loki, ashen-faced and slightly wavering, stood behind her, his knives drawn and his face grim.

Thanos let out a cry of rage that seemed to shake the floor. Acting on instincts Darcy didn't even know she had, she lunged forwards, raising the sceptre above her head like a spear, and plunged it down into Thanos' chest. There was a sickening sound, like a wet crunching, as metal worked against bone. The sceptre seemed to almost vibrate with energy, the light from its gem flickering wildly.

Thanos looked down at her, his eyes wide, and he looked oddly lost. He pawed at his chest, his hands clumsy, and he staggered back, collapsing against the bench. The Chitauri let out a high, keening wail, and above that, came an odd high-pitched whirring sound from the sceptre, sharp and piercing.

There was a single beat of silence, before everything went to hell. The sceptre seemed to explode outwards, shattering into pieces, and Darcy barely had time to bring her hands up to cover her face before she was blown backwards from the force of it. She hit a lab bench, and slumped down to the ground.

The portal flickered in and out of existence, disappearing and reappearing over and over. The Chitauri seemed panicked for the first time since she'd seen them, scrabbling over each other in a bid to get back through. Then, with a sudden, final blip, it shut, and the Tesseract grew quiet.

Like marionettes with their strings cut, the Chitauri all collapsed to the ground as one, and the room went suddenly quiet.

She felt light. There was no insistent pressing presence of the sceptre in the back of her mind. No press of Loki's mind against her own. No quiet whispers in the dark corners of her thoughts, no background humming. She felt untethered, like something had broken free when she'd plunged the sceptre into Thanos' chest. She took a deep, shaky breath in, closing her eyes.

She crawled out from under the desk, shaking her head slightly to clear the light-headed dizzy feeling. Natasha was staring at her in quiet acceptance, watching her closely.

Loki was watching her too. She felt like she ought to say something – but, really, what could she possibly say? He took a step back, and Natasha turned to look at him, frowning. He ignored her, staring straight at Darcy. He gave her a single, jerky nod, and then promptly vanished.

"Dammit!" Darcy said. "Loki!"

"He's gone," Natasha replied, calmly. "I'm surprised he waited as long as he did."

"He's free now," Darcy said. "He's angry, you don't know what he's capable of –"

"You do. And if he comes back, then we'll stop him," Natasha said, with a shrug. She winced, rolling her left shoulder a second time.

The door to the lab opened, and Tony kicked the prone corpse of a Chitauri aside and walked carefully into the room. He took a single look around, taking in the dead body of Thanos, and lowered his weapon and flipped up his face plate.

"Well," he said. "That seems to have gone much better than I expected."

Darcy burst out laughing – horrible, brittle laughter that seemed to claw its way desperately out of her, but she couldn't stop. She kept laughing, loud and hysterical, clinging to the lab bench for support, until she collapsed, sobbing, to the floor.

It was over.


	14. Chapter 14

_"You are the music while the music lasts."_  
– T. S. Eliot

…

What followed was a series of debriefings, like Russian nesting dolls, that seemed to be unending. She was debriefed, debriefed about her debriefing, debreifed some more, until she began to wonder how she could be debriefed so often and yet never had been briefed in the first place.

If she thought she'd been treated with profound suspicion before, it was nothing on the way she was treated now. The echoes of the sceptre's power hung like the Sword of Damocles over her head. And always the questions circled back to Loki.

Thor's shoulders were perpetually hunched, like he was trying to curl into himself. He and Natasha were the two who spent the most time actually talking _to_ her. But, even then, she sometimes felt like he was searching for something of the brother he'd lost in her, rather than seeing her on her own merits.

He talked to her about Asgard, long into the night in a soft, wistful tone that made Darcy's heart positively ache. He talked about Odin, about first taking up a sword, about receiving Mjolnir, about the glory and the splendor of Asgard when they had been taken as gods, and the sounds of thousands of human voices crying out in supplication.

And she could _see_ it, through the bits of her mind that were still home to the echo Loki had left behind. When Thor spoke, it seemed to stir, and she felt the long, gnawing ache of homesickness for a place she'd never seen. Thor seemed to understand. He'd stop speaking, and smile at her kindly, and they'd sit side by side in silence until the feeling past.

She sometimes wondered who got more out of those conversations – him or her.

Natasha's support was quieter. She attended every debriefing, every meeting, and sat, watching, as Darcy answered question after question. And, every single time Darcy hit breaking point, and was about to lose it on them all, Natasha would lean forwards and say something in that low, calm, cool and collected way of hers, and redirect the conversation. She tried, once, after one of many long, gruelling meetings to put into words how _grateful_ she was for that – but it all seemed to get tangled up in her mouth until she was saying nothing at all.

But the most difficult thing in the month that followed the death of Thanos was Jane. She suspected that it was at Thor's bidding that Jane turned up at her door one evening. She was standing on the threshold, pulling the long sleeves of her lumpy sweater down over her arms nervously, and Darcy felt like all the potential they had, all the friendship that wasn't to be rushed out of her like a great exhalation. She wanted to shut the door in Jane's face, but there was something pleading in Jane's expression, and her own desire for closure, that made her step aside and invite her in instead.

"I wasn't sure if you'd see me," said Jane, without preamble.

"I didn't think you'd come," replied Darcy.

There was a long awkward pause, in which both Jane and Darcy studiously avoided looking at each other. Then, they both spoke at once, "I'm sorry –"

Jane laughed and looked down at her feet. "You go first," she said.

"I'm sorry," Darcy replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. "I'm sorry for how I treated you, and for, well, everything."

"I'm sorry too." Jane was twisting the sleeve of her shirt around her thumb over and over again. "It's been hard for me, but I wasn't as a good a friend to you as I should have been, and I'm sorry."

"I get it," said Darcy, bringing her knees up and hugging them to her chest. "I was in your head, you needed space. Believe me, if anyone gets it, _I_ do."

Jane nodded, worrying her lip between her teeth. "Are you OK?" she asked, at last.

Darcy gave her a grim smile. "Not really, no. You?"

Jane smiled back. "Not really, no."

"Will you be OK?" Darcy asked.

Jane paused, and then nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Do you want to talk about it?" She looked as if she half-wished Darcy would say no.

"Yeah," said Darcy, leaning forward to rest her chin on her knees. "But not right now. I've done nothing _but_ talk about it – with Fury, Thor,_everyone_. I don't really feel any better, but I don't think I _can_ talk about it anymore."

Jane nodded, biting her thumbnail nervously. "If you do – I hope... I hope you'll think of me," she said, awkwardly.

"I'd like that."

Jane flashed her another half-smile, and then clapped her hands together. "Well," she said. "I've, uh, gotta go. Thor's expecting me back, and, well..."

"Sure," Darcy replied, faintly. "I'll see you around, then."

"You will," said Jane. She reached out like she was going to put her hand on Darcy's shoulder, but stopped short, her fingers closing in the open air before dropping back to her side. She smiled, though, before turning quickly and slipping out the door.

Darcy fell backwards onto the bed, covering her face in her hands and wondering why she felt so curiously empty.

…

And then, the briefings stopped. The questions stopped. _Everything_ stopped.

She got an apartment of her own, and it was small and bare and empty, and she walked out of SHIELD's doors and didn't look back. Waitressing wasn't the most glamorous of jobs, but it paid her bills and meant she could speak to people without there being any danger of a meaningful connection, so it worked. She felt a bit like the world had moved on without her.

And it was only then, when she was at rock bottom, that he turned up.

She knew something was off the moment she stepped in the front door. The hairs stood up on the back of her neck in warning, as she looked around the still, silent apartment. She pressed her lips together and decided there was nothing for it. She turned around, pulled the door open and prepared to go knock on her neighbour's door and make a complete fool of herself asking if they'd come check her apartment with her.

She didn't make it out the door. Loki stepped around the corner of the entrance hallway and covered her mouth in a single, quick motion, pressing her back against his body and dragging her into the apartment before she could scream. He spun her around, clamping his hand tight over her neck and pinning her against the wall.

"Hello, _Darcy_," he said, with a snarl.

She dug her nails into his hands as hard as she could, but he barely seemed to notice. "Have you come to kill me?" she asked.

He leant forwards, cutting off her air supply and looking straight into her eyes. "I've thought about it," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I've thought about it often – what I could do to you, to _repay_ you."

She glared at him, her toes brushing ineffectually at the ground as she scrabbled for purchase. She felt herself growing weak, like she hadn't the strength the fight anymore – her lungs were _burning_. And Loki, Loki was just _staring_ at her, watching. She could feel his hand shaking even as it pressed against her throat, and as he stared at her she thought she saw a flicker of terror in his eyes.

Then, as abruptly as he'd arrived, he dropped her and stepped back. She fell to the floor, coughing.

He was leaning against the far wall, looking down at her with a curious expression. "Why can't I kill you?"

She looked at him incredulously, scuttling backwards away from him on all fours.

"Why can't I be rid of you? Everywhere I turn, it's _you_, lurking in the darkness. The link has been severed – the sceptre is gone. Why are you still_here_?"

He crouched down in front of her, leaning forwards to rest his weight on his knuckles. "What have you done to me?" he asked, his voice low, ragged and desperate.

"I'm sorry," Darcy said, pressing herself back against the wall and shutting her eyes, just to get away from the sight of him.

He moved forwards, quick as a cat, and slammed both hands into the wall on either side of her head. She jumped, and he brought his face in close to hers. Echoes of _that_ day in the lab sprang up in her mind – the press of his lips, the smell of him. She felt his breath ghost hot over her cheek, and she tried hard to keep from reacting.

She watched his gaze travel slowly over her face, his eyelids lowering as he traced the line of her jaw. "Are you?" he said, quietly. "Or are you merely sorry that I got away?"

He shifted, and she could hear the movement of his clothes, loud in the otherwise silent apartment. "What would you have done," he asked, his voice low and seductive, "if the sceptre had not been destroyed? Where then would we stand?"

"I don't know," she replied.

"Don't you?" He moved closer still, until their lips were nearly touching. "The world was in the palm of your hand. _Absolute_ power at your fingertips, and all you had to do was reach out and _take_ it."

"I wouldn't," she said, turning her head away. "I never wanted this."

She felt his teeth scrape at the skin of her neck, and she shuddered involuntarily, shutting her eyes to try and keep some semblance of focus.

"No?" he asked, chuckling slightly. "Never? You forget, Darcy, I have seen your mind. I know that deep down there was a secret part of you that_enjoyed_ it. How long, I wonder, would it have been before that quiet piece of you wormed its way to the surface?"

"I'm not like you," she said sharply, shoving him backwards.

He sat back, leaning against the wall across the hallway from her, looking thoughtful. "There is a part of you in me," he said softly. "It wears at me, like a shard of glass embedded under my skin that I cannot dig out." He looked, his eyes flashing in the low light of the hallway. "I want it gone."

"And I want you gone," she replied. "But, in case you haven't heard, 'you can't always get what you want'."

He scowled. "So where does that leave us?"

"Us? _Us_?" she repeated, somewhat hysterically. "There is no us! There is _you_ with your crazy world domination schemes, and your breaking into my house to murder me, and your double-crossing, and your _leaving_ as soon as you could get your stupid ass free from me."

Loki looked a little bit stunned by this outburst.

"It leaves 'us'," said Darcy, making finger quotations in the air, "with you walking the hell out of my front door and never, _ever_ coming back. It leaves 'us' with you leaving me the hell alone, you leaving my _planet_ the hell alone."

Loki snarled, sitting forward. "Midgard is _mine_."

"No it's not! It's not _anybody's_, and it's definitely not _yours_."

"I will see your precious Midgard razed to the ground. I will watch the towers of your cities burn, and hear the screams of your children as they beg for mercy, and I will not give it. I will take possession of your world and bend your people to my will."

"And then what?" Darcy asked. "If that's your plan, they why aren't you doing it? Why are you here?"

"We have unfinished business, you and I," said Loki, quietly.

"You came here to kill me," Darcy said, hollowly.

Loki nodded.

"But you can't," she said.

He nodded again.

She let out a long puff of air, sagging back against the wall. "Well," she said. "Where does that leave you?"

"I don't know," Loki replied. "But this –," he waved his hand back and forth between the two of them, "connection, must be severed."

"Fine by me," she said.

"I am not like Thor, or your other associates," he said, tucking his legs up under him and rising to his feet. "I am not kind, I am not your _friend_. I would sooner see your world destroyed than live as one of you."

"Pretty sure I got that figured out when you tried to murder me," Darcy said, not trusting herself to stand without collapsing. Her legs were still shaking, and she felt oddly disconnected from her own body, like she couldn't quite get her limbs to obey her commands. But, there was no way in _hell_ she was going to advertise that fact to Loki.

He stared down at her imperiously. "I regret," he began awkwardly, and then snapped his mouth closed with an audible clack of teeth. "I would rather Thanos have died by my hand than yours," he said. "Though I have no great fondness for you, killing is not in your nature."

"As it is in yours?" she asked, bitterly.

"Perhaps." He inclined his head towards her. "I wonder..."

She expected him to leave, but instead he simply stood there, hovering like a bad smell, and thinking.

"Why can't you kill me?" she asked, throwing all sense of self-preservation to the wind. "If you want the link severed so badly, why not just kill me?"

He blinked, looking like she'd startled him out of his thoughts, before he frowned. "There is an echo of you that has been imprinted on my mind," he said. "And you are not a killer." Slowly, he reached out a hand down to her.

"How do I know you're not lying?" she asked.

"You don't," he replied. "But I usually am."

She swallowed, and threw caution to the wind, placing her hand in his. His fingers tightened vice-like around hers and he hauled her to her feet, keeping a steadying pressure on her arm when she swayed from the sudden change in position. His hand seemed to hold hers for just a moment too long, his fingers warm against her skin, and she felt his thumb brush against the inside of her wrist before he let go and stepped back.

He was frowning, looking at her with a perplexed expression on his face.

"There is so much about this that I do not understand," he said.

She snorted. "Join the club."

When he still made no move to leave, she asked, "what are you going to do now?"

"You know what I am, what I'm capable of," he replied. "I have every intention of attacking SHIELD."

"I know what you're capable of," said Darcy, and she saw Loki's gaze flick to the floor before returning to her face. "It doesn't have to be this way."

He laughed. "Touching, truly. But this story does not end in redemption. You have not bettered me – only crippled me. I have had my revenge on Thanos, though I do not forget by whose hand it was wrought. I will have my revenge on you in time."

She shivered at that. "And until then?"

He gave her a mocking smile. "Until then," he said, bowing, "enjoy your world while you have it." Then, as abruptly as he'd arrived, Loki simply turned on the spot and vanished.

"Fucker can apparate," said Darcy, leaning back against the wall and taking deep steadying breaths. "That's just... _fantastic_."

Still, she thought, as she stumbled shakily into her kitchen and sat down at the counter, pouring herself a glass of water, there was no question that she was part of the world now. For the first time since she'd stabbed Thanos, and heard the horrible crunch of metal against bone as she'd driven the sceptre into his body, she felt _alive_.

* * *

**Endnotes:** Well, this is it, folks. Thanks very, very much to everyone who's taken the time to offer feedback, kudos, and favourites, and to everyone who's been reading this mad adventure. It's been fun, and it wouldn't have been half as fun without all of you – so thank you. :)

**ETA:** Oops, forgot – in anticipation of the obvious question: yes, there will be a sequel.


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